


The Invention of Solitude

by sal_si_puedes



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Violence, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Medical Torture, Multi, Porn with Feelings, Post-Movie: The Old Guard (2020), Rough Sex, Search and Rescue, Sex as a Bargaining Chip, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Torture, but there is sweetness among the bitterness I swear!!, well at least for one of the boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29471970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes
Summary: After the team splits up at the end of the movie, not Quynh but Joe shows up at Booker‘s apartment in Paris – in desperate need of help: The others have been captured, and Copley is MIA as well. To persuade Booker to help him, Joe is willing to do anything, to give Booker anything – including what he thinks Booker wants most: himself. When, after a dramatic chase-and-rescue mission, the team finally reunites, a grateful Joe and Nicky invite Booker to spend the night with them.Basically, “The Old Guard” meets “Taken” meets “Indecent Proposal”. And then (three)some. :)And: Despite the threesome, Joe x Nicky ARE very much the main pairing!!
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Original Male Character(s), Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 54
Kudos: 70
Collections: The Old Guard Big Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as my contribution for ["The Old Guard Big Bang 2021"](https://oldguardbigbang2021.tumblr.com/) on tumblr - I had a blast writing this, so thank you so much, lovely mod squad for organizing and hosting this!!! <3
> 
> Enormous thanks go to my two lovely beta readers, [Kaerith](https://blueskaerith.tumblr.com/) and [asanyfulekno](https://asanyfulekno.tumblr.com/)!!! You both are amazing, and I owe you big time! Thank you so much for your comments and commas, for your patience and persistence, for giving Joe the right gun and the mystery guy in the parking lot a name - and for helping me make this so much better and have everyone get some in the end (even though some of the times without lube). Hehe! You rock!!!! *smooooooooches*
> 
> [No offence re the title, beloved Mr. Paul Auster... Take it as a compliment! :D]

_If the door is still standing, however, all you have to do is walk through it, and you are back inside. It’s pleasant sleeping out under the stars. Never mind the rain. It can’t last very long._  
(Paul Auster, “The Invention of Solitude”)

.

Joe has been inside the apartment for a little over half an hour, just standing there by the sink at the window, leaning against it, waiting. He hasn’t touched anything but the lock when he broke it and the doorhandle, although he’s desperate for something to drink. He’s arguing with himself whether to turn around and drink some of the water from the tap when he hears dragging footsteps outside in the hallway and then, after a short pause, a crash. Glass shattering on the floor and a muffled curse. Then nothing for a while.

Letting his eyes roam the shabby kitchen-slash-dining-room once more, taking in the clutter and the carelessness, the bottles and the disarray, Joe sighs and straightens his back. He’s tired, a bone-deep exhaustion trying to force him to his knees, his eyelids heavy as lead. His entire body is stiff with fatigue but at the same time his nervous system is wired with an almost unbearable tension, and his mind is swimming as if he has been into the stash of whiskey he’s sure is hidden in one of the cupboards in here. Which he hasn’t been, he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in days. When the door finally swings open, Joe squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath.

Booker enters, gun drawn and his finger on the trigger, his left hand supporting his right. His hair is longer than it was a couple of months ago when they left him by the river, and it’s messy and in desperate need of a wash. Booker looks as tired and worn out as Joe feels; there are dark circles under his eyes and his lips look dry and a little paler than usual. Nevertheless, an intense feeling of relief washes over Joe the moment he lies eyes on him.

Joe waits and lets Booker take in the situation, lets him understand and adjust. He watches how that happens, how Booker slowly takes his finger off the trigger and lowers the gun a little. Booker doesn’t put it away just yet, but those small gestures mean a lot.

“You,” Booker says, and Joe nods. Joe can see the surprise and the fear in Booker’s eyes turn into anger, and he reminds himself again that it has been only a couple of months since they parted ways at that godforsaken river bank in London. He remembers the last look they exchanged, the curt nod, and the stone-like weight settling in his stomach as he climbed up the pub’s back stairs after the others, leaving Booker behind alone.

Booker doesn’t nod now, not even curtly, and his eyes are hard and cold as ice.

“Sebastien.”

Booker blinks and shakes his head a little as if to clear his mind from heavy fog. He seems pretty drunk, which would explain the sound of shattering glass earlier – and the curse.

“What are you doing here?”, Booker asks, his words slightly slurred and his voice laced with booze. He must have had a lot, and just very recently, to be still so affected by it.

Joe swallows and clears his throat. His stomach is tight with worry and fear, but he wills himself to sound calm and composed.

“I need your help.”

Booker’s brow furrows. “Where are the others?”

Joe’s heart misses a beat at that question, and he swallows again, heavily. He’s been doing that a lot lately, and his throat feels raw with it. “I don’t know.”

“What—”

“They’ve been taken. A couple of days ago. Four, I think. I—” 

Booker lets go of the gun with his left hand, but he doesn’t put it away just yet; he just keeps holding it in his right.

“What do you mean, _taken_? _Four days ago?_ ” The note in Booker’s voice is one of both accusation and slowly growing worry, and Joe thinks that that hint of concern might be a good thing, a good sign. If Booker still cares enough to sound like that then he might be persuaded to help.

When Booker just shakes his head in disbelief, Joe can feel his shoulders sag, and he runs his fingers through his hair, shaking his head as well.

“They—Someone took them. I don’t know who, and I don’t know where they are. Nothing. For four fucking days.”

He can feel every second of the last four days in his bones, all three hundred forty-five thousand six hundred of them, and he’s sure the strain of those days is clearly visible on his face and in his posture.

“Are they—”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Joe snaps, and when Booker takes a tentative step forward, Joe raises his hand. “I don’t know, Booker. I was—”

Booker gestures towards the table with the barrel of his gun, then he stuffs it into the waistband of his jeans behind his back and shrugs out of his jacket. He hangs the jacket over the back of one of the chairs and gestures at the table again. “Sit. Talk.”

Joe hesitates briefly, but then he nods. He pulls a chair out from the table and sits down. He feels heavy, and his brain feels so annoyingly fuzzy, so fucking tired. He sighs and buries his face in his hands for a moment before he looks up again.

“I don’t know where they are. I don’t know where _he is_. I’m not even exactly sure what happened and—”

“What _do_ you remember?” Booker asks, turning to one of the sideboard’s overhead compartments. He takes out two glasses and a bottle and sets them down on the table. Then he takes a seat opposite of Joe. “Is there anything—”

“They tried to chop my head off very early in,” Joe says, and the words hurt in his throat and at the back of his neck. “Before I could get to—Before I could do anything. They were almost successful, and I don’t know what would have happened if it hadn’t been for that last inch that was still intact. I don’t think I would have made it back if it hadn’t still been there.” 

Booker scoffs. He pours himself a drink and then he pours another into the second glass. He slides it across the table towards Joe and brings his own glass to his lips. “That must have hurt.”

“They just left me there. Probably thought nobody would be able to recover from that. Took me a while, too. A day, I guess, I’m not sure.” Joe picks up the glass Booker has shoved at him and raises it, but he doesn’t take a sip. “When I came back again, the others were gone. It took me an entire day to heal, a day before I could even move. It gave them too much of a head start, and I haven’t caught any trace of them yet.”

“Copley?” Booker asks around the rim of his glass.

Joe shakes his head. “Went MIA as well. They probably got to him first.”

“Any idea who ‘they’ may be? Or what _they_ want?”

Joe shakes his head again. 

“Did nobody make contact? Demands?” 

Joe shakes his head. He wonders how sober Booker seems now, compared to just a few minutes ago. “They probably think I’m dead, Book. And they probably think you’re dead, too. Or they don’t even know you exist. Since—I mean they must have done some kind of surveillance before they came for us; they were so fast when it happened, they must have been watching us before. They must have been. And they probably didn’t see you. Since you weren’t there when they came for us.” Joe knows he’s babbling, but he can’t help it. It’s the first time he can talk about it to someone, to someone who knows Andy as well. And Nile. And Nicky. To someone he knows and trusts, to someone who is family. “So, they took what they could get, what was still left. Andy, Nile and—Nicky.”

Booker nods, slowly. “And now—”

“Are you going to help me?” Joe asks, setting his glass down again. The whiskey in there is still untouched. “I can’t do this on my own, find them and get them back. I need—”

“Why would I?” Booker asks quietly, and his voice sounds so flat Joe’s throat constricts. Maybe Joe had misunderstood Booker’s nod back then, there at that goddamn river bank. Maybe he had mistaken bitterness for acknowledgement. “You sent me away, left me there on that fucking shore. You and the others. Made me pay what you called a _price_ and now you—”

“We’ll cut your sentence short,” Joe interrupts, leaning forward a little. He knows he’s speaking way to fast but he can’t help it. “I’ll talk to the others; I’ll get them down to twenty years. Nicky wanted twenty years anyway, and Nile—”

“ _You_ ,” Booker says slowly, his eyes narrowing almost to slits. “ _You_ made it a hundred.”

Joe nods, avoiding Booker’s eyes at first but then he lets them find his.

“Yeah. And I know I can get them—”

“No.”

Joe falls silent, staring at Booker across the table, eyes wide and his heart beating out of his chest. He swallows, and then he swallows again. His throat is burning even though he hasn’t touched his drink yet. Maybe it’s time to do just that now. He raises his glass again and brings it to his lips, then he takes a deep swig, swallows the alcohol, and sets the glass down again. The entire time, his eyes are fixed on Booker’s.

“Please.”

Booker sits back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest, glass still in hand.

“I’ll make them cut the sentence to nil. If you help me save them I—”

“No,” Booker says again, narrowing his eyes again. It’s a different look this time but no less awful. 

Joe’s heart misses a beat. 

“They’re your family.”

“I don’t have a family, thanks to you,” Booker says after a short pause. “Not anymore.” His words sound hollow and terrifyingly final, and Joe’s chest constricts around them. “You took the only family I had left away from me for _one hundred years_. That’s not going to cut it.”

“What’s it going to take, then?” Joe grits the words through his teeth. He has one more trump card up his sleeve, but he still hopes he won’t have to play that one. He will if he has to, there is not a single shred of doubt inside of him about that, but if there’s any other way…

“You have nothing I need,” Booker replies, taking another sip from his glass. Then he refills it. “Nothing I want,” he repeats when he screws the top back onto the bottle and shoves it aside a bit. “Nothing.”

Joe’s stomach lurches, and he raises his glass again. He drains what is left in it, then he slides his empty glass over to Booker who pours him a refill as well. At least there’s that.

The whiskey tastes sharp and slightly bitter on his tongue when Joe licks his lips before he speaks again. This is his last shot, his best card. And all of a sudden, he’s not too sure it’s even going to work. His hands are sweaty, something that hasn’t happened in nearly a hundred years. This has to work, because after this he has nothing.

“If you help me,” Joe says and clears his throat, “I’ll give you what I know you want most. What you’ve wanted for over two hundred years.”

“And what would that be?” Booker sounds weary, yet a little anxious, and Joe takes a shaky breath. Here goes nothing.

“Me.”

As if in slow motion, Booker sets his glass down and leans back in his chair just like he has done before.

“What?”

“Me,” Joe repeats, rubbing his palms over his thighs. “If you help me, you can have—me.”

“Hm,” Booker huffs, pouring both himself and Joe yet another drink. For Joe’s he reaches across the table, the bottle slightly trembling in his grip. Some of the whiskey spills onto the table, but Booker doesn’t seem to notice. Or he just doesn’t care. “What about Nicky?”

“I don’t care,” Joe says. “I don’t care what he’s going to say about it or what he’s going to think or to do. As long as you help me bring him back.”

“Hm,” Booker murmurs again, furrowing his brows. “And what exactly do you mean by I can _have you_?”

A faint shimmer of hope begins to gleam inside of Joe’s heart. It almost sounds as if Booker is considering his offer, and that would be at least a first step.

“Do you mean a night? A decade? A _millennium_?”

“Whatever you want,” Joe whispers, feeling how all color is draining from his face. He _did_ think it through before he came here, but apparently not thoroughly enough. He had never expected Booker could demand _forever_. “As long as you help me bring them, bring _him_ back alive and safe. You can have anything.”

“I saw you fuck, you know,” Booker murmurs around the rim of his glass. “Back when I dreamed of you. I saw you fuck. You and— _him_.”

Joe closes his eyes and exhales shakily. Then he nods, opening his eyes again. “I know. We—we saw you, too. In our dreams and when we were ma—you know, _during_. We always thought that was because the mind is in a similar state then, similar to sleep, we—”

“I have had you,” Booker interrupts, and his eyes narrow again. Joe hates that expression on Booker’s face. It makes him shiver with cold. “I saw you fuck for years, decades. I know how it is how to fuck you. How it is to be fucked _by you_. I already know that. I have _seen_ it.”

“It’s not—” Joe swallows around another lump in his throat. It hurts. The whiskey hurts his throat, and he’ll be damned if makes his eyes sting as well. This is all he has to offer. “It’s not the same. It would be different. More. You’d like it better.” And after a short silence, he adds: “Please. He’s everything. Please help me bring him back safe. Please.”

“What if I wanted a down-payment?”, Booker asks, and Joe’s mouth goes dry. “Something up-front so I know you really mean it?”

Joe swallows again, rubs his palms over his thighs, steeling himself for what lies ahead. He can do this. Booker is his friend, and he knows why he’s doing this. He knows for whom. “Okay,” he nods, and then he says it again because he hates how small his voice just sounded. “Okay.” He moves to rise from his chair, but Booker makes a gesture with his hand that stops him dead. 

“Don’t,” Booker says. “Relax. I was just—” He shakes his head and huffs, his eyes narrowing even more for a moment, and he pauses, pursing his lips. Then the look in his eyes changes, and he straightens his back. “To quote Andy, I’ll invoice you when it’s done.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You’ll help me, then?”

Booker raises his eyebrows and pours himself yet another drink. Joe’s beginning to lose count of how many he’s had since he came back here. “So, whom did you piss off recently? Who has anything against you?”

Joe shakes his head and runs his palm over his mouth. “Nobody. We’ve been lying low since—Since Merrick.”

“Hm,” Booker huffs and turns around in his chair. He reaches behind himself and opens one of the sideboard’s drawers to retrieve his laptop. It looks even more damaged than Joe remembers. It looks as if it has been dropped and drowned in something, and like it shouldn’t have survived that more than once. Kind of like Booker, Joe thinks, and that thought constricts around his heart like an iron clamp. _That we keep living doesn’t mean we stop hurting_ ; Nile has told him about that a while ago. Shit. 

“Same as me then,” Booker says with a bitter smirk on his lips. He fires up the laptop and runs his fingers through his hair while it boots. It takes a nerve-rackingly long time, but Booker waits patiently, sipping on his drink while he stares at the screen blankly. “Let’s find out who has them, then,” he finally says, adjusting the angle of the screen.

Joe closes his eyes and exhales. He reminds himself to focus, to think. Finding Nicky, finding Andy and Nile is the only thing that matters now. Finding them and then bringing them back. Everything else he can deal with later.

“What did you check? What did you do when you came back after the attack?”

Booker’s words make it through the fog in Joe’s mind slowly. He bites his lips and shakes his head, trying to recall.

“Tried to find Copley,” Joe says. He knows he should have gone about this much more systematically from the start, but he’d been too shaken, too sick with worry after that day lying on the floor amidst the chaos of the attack, the day he’d taken to heal. So now, it’s difficult to remember what he’s done and in which order. “First, I tried his phone, then I flew to London on the first plane out. Nothing.” He takes a deep breath and concentrates harder. “They had taken his computer, too, left just the monitors behind, so there was no way I—" The memory of how it had felt to stand there in Copley’s trashed office at the end of a dead road cuts Joe’s words short. He takes another deep breath and clears his throat. “Last thing I remember before coming here is sitting in one of those internet cafés, some run-down place somewhere in East London. But I didn’t even know where to start. I—”

“Shit,” Booker says, interrupting Joe’s pathetic, fragmentary recollection, and Joe’s eyes flutter open. The light of the kitchen lamp is much too bright. “You really do need my help.”

“Yeah,” Joe murmurs, “yeah, I do”, and Booker nods in response.

“Okay,” Booker says and empties the remains of his drink. The sound the glass makes when Booker sets it down onto the table with far less care than warranted shakes Joe from his stupor, and he can feel how his body and his mind become more alert with every key Booker’s fingers hit on the laptop’s keyboard. “Okay, so Merrick was the last mission, so that’s where we’re going to start. That doctor, the crazy one – she got out alive, didn’t she? Back then, I mean?”

Joe nods slowly. He can’t believe that he hasn’t even thought of Merrick and the corpse-lined path of utter destruction they’d left behind on their way out of Merrick’s labs and back to safety. It’s even more difficult to believe that Booker is right, that they really did leave that doctor behind alive. “Kozak,” he says and clears his throat. “Her name’s Kozak.” He can still see the jars and petri dishes with samples of Nicky’s tissue in them on that aluminum table next to Nicky’s restrained body, his blood, slices of his spine, vertebrae, pieces of his brain, lung, kidney, liver.

“Good,” Booker nods and types something into his laptop. “Or not.” A moment later, he sits back, pursing his lips. “His father,” he says, and Joe frowns. “Merrick’s father,” Booker explains, gesturing at the small screen. “It says here that he’s still alive. Just a couple of weeks ago, he and Dr. Crazy attended a—”

“Shit,” Joe says, cutting short Booker’s words, and Booker nods. “That’s not good.”

“Copley’s probably already dead.” Booker’s eyes lock with Joe’s for a moment, and Joe can see pain and fear in them before Booker looks back at the screen. “And Andy—”

“We have to find them,” Joe cuts in again, “we have to find them, and we have to bring them back.”

“Yeah,” Booker says. He reaches for the bottle and pours himself and Joe another drink. “And we better work fast, too. Maybe they’re not—I mean, not yet.”

It takes them a little over three hours to narrow their search down to three different possible locations where Merrick Sr. and Dr. Kozak – if it’s really them – could be holding the others captive. Two are in England, one is in the US, in some remote part of the New Mexican desert.

“London first?” Booker asks, and Joe nods, even though the US location, a high security lab and production site, seems more likely to him. London’s closer, and if they aren’t there, they’ll check the second UK place near Liverpool, and after that, if they still haven’t found them, they’ll head to New Mexico. He just hopes they’re not losing too much time in England. He just hopes that they don’t come up empty on all three accounts. It’s the first time in days he feels something vaguely resembling hope, and when his and Booker’s tired eyes meet again across the table, Joe can feel a small smile forming on his lips. And for a moment it almost looks to him as if Booker is smiling back.

Joe wants to leave right now, catch the last Eurostar of the day, but he knows that Booker is right when he says they need a plan first. And weapons. This is a mission, maybe the most important mission of Joe’s life, and they need to be well equipped and even better prepared. 

Their safe house in Goussainville is still there, everything’s still in shambles, even though the bodies of Merrick’s men have been removed. The hidden arsenal is still there, and it’s still stocked with most of the things they need. It will be easier to get the equipment to England by train than it would be by plane, plus the Eurostar from Paris takes just a little over two hours to reach London. 

They’ll think about how to equip themselves in New Mexico later, they agree, once they know if they really have to go there. Booker says he has an old contact there, someone he’s worked with a couple of years ago during one of their many times apart. Joe isn’t surprised. Booker has contacts like that all over the world, and he takes great care to keep in touch with as many of them as possible in case they’re needed.

“Of course you do,” he tells Booker and attempts another tentative smile. This time, Booker definitely smiles back, a soft expression playing around his eyes, and he nods. It’s a sight that causes a short tightening in Joe’s chest, and once more Joe’s reminded of how much he has missed this. How much he has missed his friend.

When they’ve checked the weapons they’ve decided to take with them and after they’ve stuffed enough ammo into their duffle bags to raze a small town to the ground, they agree on staying here for the night. Joe’s tired, and he knows Booker is right when he makes his arguments for Joe to try and get some sleep before they depart for England. 

Booker begins to search the kitchen cabinets for food, for anything that’s still edible. He finds some canned soup that’s only a couple of months past its expiration date, a bottle of red and some vodka, probably Andy’s. 

Joe isn’t hungry, but when Booker sets a bowl of soup down in front of him with an only slightly disgruntled look on his face, he picks up his spoon and eats. The soup tastes like crap, but he needs to eat, he knows that. He needs to stock up on at least some energy for what lies ahead of them, and he must not, under any circumstances, remember the minestrone Nicky made just a couple of weeks ago that even Andy had loved. It’s vital that he doesn’t let his mind go there, not even for a second. Booker would have loved it, too. He’d never admit it but Joe knows that he loves Nicky’s cooking, everyone knows that, and it fills Joe with warmth to imagine Nicky’s small and slightly crooked smile while he watches Booker eat. And then, Joe’s heart constricts. He must not think of that smile or—

“Stop it.” Bookers voice is sharp as broken glass when it shakes Joe from his reverie, but the tone in Booker’s voice is far less hollow than it has been just a few hours ago, far less empty. It sounds almost as if he knows. “We’re going to find them. We’re going to bring them back. Safe. Alive.” 

“Yeah?” Joe says and puts the spoon down, leaving the last spoonful of soup in the bowl. “You really think that?” He feels sick now, the food not settling in his stomach, so he reaches for the bottle of vodka and pours himself a glass. Either the booze will make things better or worse. At the moment, his money is on the latter.

The alcohol burns in his throat when he takes a deep swig, and when his eyes meet Booker’s over the rim of his glass, they fill with water.

“I don’t know,” Booker says, leaning forward and propping his elbows up on the table. He buries his face in his hands for a moment and rubs his palms over it. When he looks up again, there’s a look of fierce determination creeping into his eyes next to the exhaustion and fear, a look that fills Joe’s heart with a little more hope. “But we can’t abandon hope before we even really start, Joe. We have to have hope. Courage.”

Joe nods. He knows Booker is right, even though Booker partly still sounds as if he doesn’t fully believe what he’s saying himself. Nevertheless, Joe recognizes and appreciates the gesture. It’s a little as it used to be, the two of them working as a team. Joe catches himself staring at Booker’s face, at his lips with that one tiny red wine tooth near the corner of Booker’s mouth, and he catches himself wondering how it would be if those lips touched his, if he would be able to bear that.

“You think the tv still works?” Booker asks, and Joe frowns. “Maybe a game’s on. We can—”

“Let’s take the car,” Joe blurts out, cutting Booker short. “Forget about the game. Or the train. Let’s go _now_. This is taking far too long, and we’ve already lost another whole day; _I_ ’ve already lost _almost a week_ , and—”

“You need to get some sleep,” Booker says, pushing his chair away from the table as he rises to his feet. “If you—”

“I can sleep in the car,” Joe replies. He watches how Booker picks up their bowls and carries them to the sink. For a moment, Booker pauses; then he turns on the tap and sprinkles some dish soap over the bowls. “You can drive, and I can sleep in the car, and we—”

“Okay,” Booker cuts in even before he turns around, harshly, but when he speaks again after a short pause, his voice is warmer somehow, almost as it used to be before the pub at the river. “Okay, Joe. Let’s do that. Go get the bags. We’re going.” Booker nods and gives Joe another of his faint half-smiles. The little red smudge above his lip is gone.

A wave of relief washes over Joe at Booker’s words, and he rises and grabs two of their bags, leaving one for Booker. They load the equipment into the trunk, and when they go back inside to retrieve their personal belongings, Booker catches Joe by surprise when he places his hand on the small of Joe’s back for a moment, guiding him through the door almost a little too gently. It feels better than it should, and Joe closes his eyes for half a step before he opens them again and quickens his pace, stepping out of the reach of Booker’s touch. He turns around to face Booker, and for a moment, their eyes meet. Booker looks so tired, Joe thinks, maybe he shouldn’t have pushed for this; but that thought only lasts until Booker blinks, and desperate fear takes over Joe’s mind again. Time’s running through their fingers, and every moment they wait—

Booker nods. “I know,” he says, “come on,” and reaches out to give Joe’s arm a brief but firm squeeze. “Let’s get our stuff, and then let’s go.”

Joe’s so exhausted he’s freezing in the car even though Booker turns the heating on as soon as they get in, and he’s too tired to sleep. So, he stares out of the passenger’s window into the darkness of the night, chewing on his lips until he tastes blood. His whole body is tense with fear, and at one point, when they’re passing Arras, Booker places a hand on his shoulder and lets it rest there for a while, warm and solid.

“Joe,” Booker says, and this time the way his voice sounds almost has Joe convinced. “We’re going to find them. We’re going to get them back.”

Joe squeezes his eyes shut against the pain pooling in his stomach and bites his lips. His hands ball into tight fists, and his breathing hitches. Booker’s hand begins to feel strange on his shoulder. Not really bad but strange, heavy and suddenly a little off. A part of Joe wishes that Booker would speak again and that he’d keep talking so his words would fill Joe’s mind and force the thoughts out. For a moment, he considers asking Booker for that but then he unclenches his fist and turns on the radio. 

Booker turns his head a little towards Joe and opens his mouth as if to speak but in the end he doesn’t. He withdraws his hand from Joe’s shoulder, biting his lips and exhaling sharply through his nose, and he runs his fingers through his hair before he takes hold of the steering wheel again. Joe can’t help but wonder what’s on Booker’s mind.

Four more hours to go.


	3. Chapter 3

The others are not in the facility outside London, so at ten in the morning Booker forces Joe into a cheap hotel, and after a quick breakfast they buy at McDonald’s and take to their room with them, Joe collapses onto his bed and sleeps for eight hours straight. 

When he comes to again, Booker is sitting at the tiny desk, staring at the screen of his laptop. It’s already dark outside, and it takes Joe a moment to focus.

“What time is it?” He asks, still feeling groggy with sleep. He shakes his head quickly and runs his hand over his mouth, trying to chase the fog away. The taste of the burger and the fries still lingers on his tongue, stale and persistent.

“A little after 6pm,” Booker says, frowning at the screen.

“You—” Joe reaches for his phone and checks the time himself. Anger surges inside of him, and his palms are sticky with cold sweat in the blink of an eye. “You let me sleep for _eight hours_? Are you—”

“You needed the sleep,” Booker says, and Joe hates that he knows Booker’s right. “I mean if they _had_ been there yesterday, as tired as you were you probably wouldn’t have been able to…”

“I know,” Joe murmurs, his muscles still stiff from the odd position he’s been sleeping in. He sits up and stretches. “You’re right. Quick shower, and then we’re off.”

Booker nods. He mutters something under his breath and closes the laptop’s lid. “We need to make one stop on the way, though,” he says, and Joe stops halfway through the door to the small bathroom. “We have to ditch the car, get another one,” Booker adds. Then he rises from his chair and stuffs his laptop into the duffle bag lying on the foot of his bed. “We’ve been driving around in this one far too long already. We need to get an English one. I’ve—we’re meeting someone a little outside of town. He’ll have a car.” He sounds a little weary, tired.

Joe knows that Booker hates driving English cars with the wheel on the wrong side, as he calls it. Joe’s gaze drops from the slightly tousled hair at the back of Booker’s head to Booker’s bed. The covers look ruffled and there’s a dent in the pillows, but it doesn’t look as if the bed has been slept in, not really. 

“Did _you_ get any sleep?” Joe asks, and Booker freezes for a moment before he zips his bag and picks it up. 

“Go get that shower,” Booker says, not turning to face Joe. “We should be leaving soon.”

Joe hesitates for a moment, biting his lips. He wants to say something but he doesn’t know what. So he closes the bathroom door behind him and undresses. He’s quick, even though he’d have liked to stay under the warm spray a little longer, but Booker is right, they should leave soon. It’s a four-and-a-half-hours’ drive, five if they are going to get another car. He’s slept for far too long already, and they really need to get going.

*****

Their drive up north is tense and silent, and it’s raining most of the time, but at least it’s not freezing as they’d feared it might be. They ditch the car at a deserted parking lot a few miles outside London, and Booker’s contact is waiting there with another car, a dark sedan about five years old. Joe doesn’t recognize the man they’re meeting, and Booker doesn’t introduce them, but watching him and Booker exchange a quick but firm hug before Booker hands him the bag with the money, watching them exchange looks before Joe and Booker get into the new car and drive off, makes Joe think.

“So,” Joe says when they’ve been on the motorway a couple of minutes, and it feels odd to turn his head to the other side now to look at Booker. “That man back there—”

“Terry,” Booker says, and Joe nods. 

“Terry. How—”

“Car thief turned pub owner,” Booker cuts in. “I— I stayed with him for a couple of weeks after—A couple of weeks this summer. Still has some of his old connections and contacts so I knew he could hook us up with a ride. And number plates.”

Booker’s voice sounds hollow, and Joe wishes things were different between them. “I—” He starts but then he interrupts himself, pauses briefly and starts again. “He seems like a good guy.”

“Yeah,” Booker nods and reaches for the radio button, but then he hesitates. “Yeah, he is. I—I wasn’t quite myself for a while back then and… Let’s just say if he hadn’t been there…”

“Does he know? About—”

“No,” Booker snaps, and his voice turns so harsh it makes Joe flinch. “Of course not. I’m not a complete idiot who goes around _telling_ people.”

“I’m glad, though,” Joe says after a while when Booker doesn’t speak again. “I’m glad there was someone. A friend.”

“Yeah,” Booker says, switching on the radio. “Me too.” For a moment Joe thinks Booker’s going to add something but he doesn’t.

The next time they speak again is about thirty minutes away from their destination. Booker exits the motorway and pulls into a parking lot next to a run-down fast food restaurant. Booker knows as well as Joe that it won’t do to eat an hour before probably going into combat, but they should drink something and relieve themselves.

When Joe exits the restroom, droplets still hanging in the hair at his temples from the water he’s just splashed his face with, Booker’s already waiting for him at one of the tables near the entrance with two Styrofoam cups of coffee and two bottles of water. They go over their plan of entry and attack one more time before they get back into the car and drive the rest of the way in silence.

Joe feels wired and alert when they arrive, buzzing with energy, but after the first few minutes of their approach he already knows they won’t find the others here, either. It’s far too easy to get close to the building, there are far too few guards, and surveillance and security are far too weak.

“They’re not here,” he whispers in Booker’s direction, and from the corner of his eye he can see Booker nod. Still, they enter and search the building, but after a little over an hour they have to face the fact that they’ve come up empty again. 

“Shit,” Joe hisses when he slumps back into his seat in the car, and Booker grabs hold of the steering wheel _hard_. Joe can see that his jaws are clenched, and even though he’s staring straight ahead into the darkness Joe can see the exhaustion in Booker’s eyes.

“New Mexico”, Booker says, and he bites his lips, shaking his head. 

“Fuck.” Joe runs his palm over his mouth. He needs a drink; his mouth is far too dry. Water would probably be best, so he unscrews his bottle, but a part of him wishes he had the guts to ask Booker for a sip from his flask. 

“We _knew_ that was an option.” Booker turns on the ignition and adjusts his grip on the wheel. “We’ll be on the first plane out tomorrow and—”

“We’re not going to make it to them in time,” Joe says, his words heavy on his tongue. He feels paralyzed, numb with fear. It feels as if he isn’t getting enough oxygen, as if he can’t breathe. “We’re going to be too late.”

“They’re immortal,” Booker says, switching gears as he drives the car out of the parking lot. “They can—”

“Andy isn’t,” Joe says. “Not anymore. And Copley. And we don’t really know how—”

“Next plane out is in seven hours. We will make it in time,” Booker says, his words surprisingly calm and steady, and the tone in them is almost warm. “He’ll—We’ll get them back.”

Joe squeezes his eyes shut and presses his fist against his lips. Every second that passes feels like torture, and the images constantly flooding his mind, even though blurry and vague, have his heart beating out of his chest. When Booker turns on the radio, Joe’s muscles relax a bit but his mind keeps spinning.

After a couple of minutes, he opens his eyes again. They’re on the motorway, heading back to London. They need to get their remaining stuff from the hotel before they make for the airport and they can sleep on the plane. There won’t be anything else to do for over ten hours on their flight to Dallas and then for another two and a half on the connecting one to Albuquerque.

Joe sighs and stretches. He takes another swig from his water bottle and shields his eyes against the headlights of an oncoming car.

“Why did you leave?” He asks when the car has passed, but he doesn’t turn to face Booker.

“What?”

“Terry,” Joe elaborates, even though he suspects that Booker knows exactly what he’s talking about. “Back then, in London. Why did you leave?”

For the longest time, Booker remains silent, and Joe’s almost convinced that he’s not going to reply. Then he takes a deep breath and clears his throat. His face scrunches up a little, and he purses his lips before he finally speaks. “Got too difficult after a while. He was—He told me he was beginning to fall in love.”

“I see,” Joe says quietly, and he does. “I’m sorry.” He wants this for Booker, something good and warm, but he knows why Booker won’t let himself. Why he _can’t_. Nicky’s faint, slightly crooked smile dances before Joe’s inner eye, and he knows.

Booker just nods, and they keep driving in silence.


	4. Chapter 4

“What do you think they want with them?” Joe asks one hour after take-off, and when Booker opens his eyes, they’re dark and tired. “What do you think they’re doing to them?”

“I don’t know,” Booker says, shifting in his seat. “But I doubt it’s pleasant.”

Joe’s stomach tenses and his chest constricts. “I know,” he says, running his palms over his thighs. “I keep seeing—I can’t stop thinking about—The pictures won’t stop.”

“I know,” Booker says after a short pause. “Me too.” He closes his eyes. And, after a longer period of silence, when Joe thinks he must have fallen asleep, he speaks again, eyes still closed. “I still dream of Quynh,” he says, his voice very low and his words barely above a whisper. “All the time. I’ve been dreaming of her for—ever since I became like this. I hate sleep.”

“Shit,” Joe murmurs. Booker has never told him, and he hasn’t thought about it too much either, to be honest. He doesn’t know what else to say.

“That’s why I went to Copley back then; why I—why I sold you out. I—I’m tired. I want to sleep. No more dreams. You know?”

Joe doesn’t know what to reply to that either, so he remains silent.

*****

They pick up a fully equipped van from a contact of Booker’s contact at the airport, check into a run-down motel fifty miles outside of Albuquerque and go over their plans for entering and searching the premises, for finding and freeing the rest of the team, for finally getting them out. Booker has somehow managed to get hold of blueprints of the area, but they date back to before Merrick Corp acquired it a couple of years ago, so they aren’t sure how accurate those layouts still are, or how useful they’re going to be.

But there seems to be a part in one of the buildings that has an even higher security level than the rest. They decide to make their way there first.

It’s dark when they approach the site, the van with changed number plates parked at a safe distance, and Joe’s holding a gun in a tight grip when they kneel down at the outermost fence after half an hour of careful surveillance with night goggles from half a mile away.

Booker cuts the wire, and Joe lets out a shaky breath when no alarms go off. Their short-circuiting the fence a few minutes earlier apparently worked. 

They’ve agreed to go in as quietly as possible since it’s only the two of them and they want to keep a low profile with at least Andy and Copley’s lives at stake. If they’re still alive, Joe thinks, but he quenches that thought as soon as it flares up in his mind. He can’t focus on his fears now, there’s a job ahead of them, a mission, and all his attention needs to be on that. He’s trained to focus on any given task at hand, almost a millennium of combat has taught him that.

Joe takes out two guards as soon as he has climbed through the cut in the fence ahead of Booker, and they fall to the ground almost silently. Two spitting sounds, two dull drops, no time for anyone to call out for help or in warning.

There are fewer guards than they thought there would be, and they can slip by most of them. A few more fall by Joe’s bullets, but they encounter them in places they hadn’t expected security to be patrolling. Joe tries not to read this as a bad sign. They sneak along the dark and empty corridors until they reach that part of the building with the highest security level in the blueprints.

There had been an air vent in the prints that might still be there and if they can find it and make their way through it, they should be close to where they think the others might be held. 

“What if they’re not here either,” Joe whispers and Booker shushes him with a brusque gesture of his hand. 

“Don’t think about that now. Move.”

The air vent is still there, around the next corner, and they open it and climb inside. It’s so narrow they have to crawl on their stomachs, using their elbows for leverage. The weapons they’re carrying are bulky and almost too large for the vent, but they need them, and Joe wouldn’t leave his scimitar behind under any circumstances. So they try their best to keep the weapons from scratching or banging against the walls of the vent, to keep as quiet as possible. 

There’s one guard at the other end of the vent, his back turned towards the opening above his head. Joe can almost hear how Booker holds his breath as he tries to open the grate without making any sound. Holding the grate in his left Booker eliminates the guard with a clean shot to the back of his head before he can even turn around. The sound the body makes when it hits the ground seems deafeningly loud, and both Booker and Joe freeze for a moment and wait, holding their breath, but nobody comes to check what has happened. So, after a short while they dare to breathe again, and another minute or so later, they climb out of the vent and quickly cross the corridor.

The door they need to get through is locked, of course, and there’s a digital keypad. Joe frowns. They can’t use explosives, there would be too much noise and they’d be discovered immediately, and he’s not sure if Booker’s gun is going to do the trick either. He’s about to draw his own gun and give it a try when Booker holds out his hand to stop him. 

Booker fishes something from his pocket that looks almost like a cell phone and carefully attaches it to the keypad. Numbers begin to run across the device’s small screen until an eleven-digit code becomes visible and locks in. A metallic click – and the door’s unlocked.

Joe pulls the door open, and they enter a small, empty room without a light source, only lit by the cold neon light streaming inside through the door they’ve just come through and that’s slowly closing behind them. There are three doors, two opposite them and another one to their left.

Something draws Joe to the door on the left. He can’t tell exactly what it is but is a strong pull, and his stomach lurches. Nicky’s behind that door, he knows that with a certainty so absolute it makes his pulse skyrocket. He doesn’t even think to check if Booker’s following him as he sprints towards the door and tears it open.


	5. Chapter 5

The tiny black hole Joe finds himself staring into as soon as the door swings open, the barrel of a gun, causes Joe’s heart to miss a beat and costs him a valuable second. He raises his hand to swat the gun away, but someone yanks him backwards and twists his arms behind his back. His gun drops to the floor, and a sharp pain shoots through his body. It’s a dislocated shoulder, Joe’s brain registers, but then everything else fades away, and for a moment the only thing Joe can see is Nicky.

Nicky’s wrists are bound in shackles high above his head, and that’s the only thing holding him upright right now. He appears to be unconscious, or maybe he’s dead, Joe doesn’t know. He can’t tell and that causes his brain to stop functioning for a moment. Nicky’s torso is bare and grimy with blood and dirt, his hair is matted with blood and god knows what else. His trousers are ripped to shreds, and he’s barefoot. Joe can’t see his face because his head has fallen forwards and his face is hidden behind short strands of hair.

Joe jerks against the hold of the guards, and immediately he feels something pressing against his temple, something hard and unrelenting. It’s the barrel of the gun he’s been facing just a moment earlier.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a stern, yet cool voice warns, and it takes Joe a moment to make sense of the words. His head snaps around and there’s Merrick Sr., looking slightly smaller than in the pictures Joe and Booker had found on the internet, and a little older maybe but much more threatening. Next to him is Dr. Kozak, tilting her head and staring at Joe with an expression of bewildered curiosity.

“We thought you were dead,” she says, her voice icily calm. “We thought we had killed you when we cut your head off. Interesting.” She looks to her right, scribbling something onto a piece of paper stuck to a clip board without looking, and Joe’s eyes follow hers.

Andy is tied up several feet away from Nicky in the same position, her arms in shackles above her head, and just as Joe looks at her she opens her eyes. The look in them is dull with pain, but when they meet Joe’s something flickers up in them for a moment. “Joe,” Andy croaks, her voice slurred and slow. “You’re—”

“ _Andy!_ ”

Joe struggles against the guards’ hold, and at his temple, the gun’s safety is loosened. The guards’ holds tighten around his wrists, shoulders and arms, and Merrick speaks again.

“Don’t.”

“Make him stop,” Andy slurs, and Joe’s chest constricts. “Make him stop this madness.”

“You fucking assholes,” Joe spits and tries to break free again. “What—”

The next thing he knows is that he’s lying on the floor, a splitting pain blurring his mind. There’s blood in his mouth, and a red veil is covering the entire room when he opens his eyes. He can make out Andy jerking against her restraints, and as he struggles to his knees, his eyes focus on Nicky again. 

There’s still no vital sign, and Joe automatically swallows, the blood running down his throat. For a moment he thinks he’s going to throw up, but then there’s the slightest movement, then a gasp, and Nicky is breathing again.

“ _Nicolò_ ,” Joe yells, and Nicky lifts his head, slowly, far too slowly, and when Joe sees his face his insides turn to ice. For a second, there is nothing but pure horror inside of him, but then that horror turns into rage.

“Me,” Nicky whispers, and the pleading note in his voice causes Joe’s throat to tighten and his head to swim. “Please, _me_.” Nicky’s eyes are empty, and they don’t see Joe for the longest time, but when they finally do, they widen and become bottomless. 

Nicky says just one more word. “No.”

There’s so much pain in that one word, so much disbelief, horror and fear. It breaks Joe’s heart, and he knows he needs to do something about that right now. It’s the last thing that goes through his mind before everything goes black again. 

It’s almost exactly like the first time Merrick’s goon shot him in the head mere minutes ago, only this time, Nicky’s eyes are fixed on him when he comes back to life. 

“You told me he was dead,” Nicky spits, and even though he’s still looking at Joe, his words are clearly directed at Merrick. “You said—”

“Uh-uh,” Merrick interrupts, and it almost kills Joe how easily Nicky is silenced. He must have been to hell and back. “You know what’s next, _Nicolò_. You know the question you have to answer.”

“Me,” Nicky says, and Joe can hear how he forces his voice to sound as firm as he possibly can, as decisive as he can make it sound. Finally, Nicky turns his head and looks at Merrick. Joe can still see fear in his eyes but now they’re also filled with contempt. 

“This time,” Merrick says, and turns to face Joe, “this time we’ve been doing slightly different experiments on them. Not just _physical_ ones.”

Joe scrambles to his feet, his head still ringing with the latest shot to his brain. He’s dizzy but he shrugs the hands of the guards off violently when they try to grab him again. “Don’t touch me,” he hisses before he turns to Merrick, even though he knows he doesn’t stand a chance against them like this. His arms are twisted behind his back once more and the guards’ fingers close around his wrists and grab his arms again like iron cuffs. “What—”

“We’re giving him a choice. Either we kill _him_ or,” Merrick nods in Andy’s direction, “or her. He has chosen to die every single time. Interesting, isn’t it, Dr. Kozak?”

“We’re also measuring his adrenalin level,” Dr. Kozak chimes in with a faint smile on her lips. Then she briskly walks over to where Nicky is tied up and pushes a long needle into Nicky’s side, slowly and with her smile broadening. “Directly at the source,” she murmurs, her eyes following the needle in wonder.

Nicky squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lips so hard they turn into a thin, white line, but when Dr. Kozak gives the needle an extra push, a weak, agonized sound falls from Nicky’s lips and his head lolls forward until his chin touches his chest.

“Fascinating,” Dr. Kozak mutters, looking at the test tube she’s emptying the syringe’s contents into, and Nicky raises his head again, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. “No difference from the last fifteen times.”

Joe’s boiling with rage, but the guards’ hands are still holding him firmly in place, so he can’t reach any of his weapons and he can’t break loose no matter how much he struggles.

“Maybe,” Merrick takes a step towards Nicky as well and tilts his head. He scrutinizes Nicky’s face, looks up and down his body. Then he turns towards Andy who’s slowly regaining consciousness. They must have knocked her out after shooting Joe, while he was still out himself. “Maybe we should make it a little more… challenging, then?”

It feels as if from one instance to the next Joe’s blood turns to ice. _Andy_. They’re going to ask _her_ this time. And she’s—

“Her,” Merrick says and nods at Andy, “her or _him_?” Without looking, he points behind himself at Joe. 

Even under all the blood and grime, Joe can see how all color drains from Nicky’s face.

“No,” Nicky says, his eyes widening with realization. “No, me. Those are the rules. You said those were the rules. Her or me.”

Joe doesn’t even dare to begin to imagine how many times Merrick must have put Nicky through this to make him accept this madness as ‘the rules’. Bile rises in his throat, and his pulse skyrockets.

“You can’t chang—”

“I can do whatever I want,” Merrick cuts in, and Nicky actually flinches at the harshness of his voice. “And you’re going to give me an answer – or _I’ll_ decide.”

“No,” Nicky whispers, shaking his head weakly, his eyes searching for Joe’s. “No. I can’t. I—”

“Oh, go ahead and shoot me already, asshole,” Joe cuts in and raises his chin. It’s not the most pleasant experience, dying, especially dying a painful death, which being shot in the head definitely is, but he can take it. Easily, and as many times as necessary. 

Merrick’s pointing hand drops, and he turns around to face Joe. “Who said anything about shooting,” he says as calm as if he was ordering a beer. “Who said—”

It’s just the briefest flash from behind Joe’s back, and Merrick drops to the floor, a tiny red circle in the center of his forehead, right between his eyes. The guards framing Joe fall next, and before Dr. Kozak and the remaining guards can react, Booker is throwing a gun at Joe mid-attack, running towards where Nicky and Andy are tied up, shooting left and right almost blindly, whatever works. 

The remaining guards are quick but so are Booker and Joe, healing from near-fatal wounds even faster than usual, powered by their desperate need to protect and to save the others.

Joe heads straight for Nicky, and from the corner of his eye he can see that Booker’s making his way over to Andy. As soon as Joe reaches Nicky, he shoots at the chains fixed to the shackles around Nicky’s wrists, and he’s there to catch Nicky’s body before he can fall to the ground. Nicky’s heavy, but he’s also warm and solid and gloriously alive, and Joe clutches him against his chest, burying his nose in Nicky’s matted hair. He inhales deeply and closes his eyes for a second. Then he bites and kisses his way to Nicky’s lips while simultaneously patting him down even though he knows whatever injury, whatever wound Nicky may have sustained has almost certainly already healed. He can taste the immortality on Nicky’s lips and on his tongue, and the relief that comes in its wake is earthshattering.

It is so overwhelming that Joe almost wants to take Nicky right there and then, his body and soul straining with the need to reclaim what has been taken from him, and he can feel that Nicky’s just the same, but he also knows they can’t, not yet. They still have to find Nile and Copley, and they don’t even know yet if Copley is still alive. 

“Nile,” Nicky gasps into Joe’s breathless, bruising kiss. “Copley. They’re—”

Then Booker and Andy are there, and Joe pulls Andy against him while Nicky stares at Booker. Of course, neither Nicky nor Andy had known that Joe had gone to him for help.

For a moment, nobody moves, and everything seems frozen in place and time. Then Nicky grabs hold of Booker’s arm. “ _Nile_ ,” he urges, his voice raw with exhaustion and fear. “ _Copley_. Where are they? We—”

“I think they’re next door,” Andy says and nods to her left. “In the other room. I think I heard—”

Before she can finish her sentence, Nicky starts rushing towards the exit, and Andy follows suit. For a moment, Joe’s and Booker’s eyes lock. There’s a fire in Booker’s eyes that’s both encouraging and deeply unsettling. 

“Kozak?” Joe asks, and Booker’s jaws clench for an instant before he speaks.

“Taken care of. She won’t bother us again. Ever.”

Joe nods, and they run after Andy and Nicky. When they burst through the door to the room in which they suspect Nile and Copley to be held captive, they immediately spread out, ready to fight. 

Joe takes in the room with a single glance. Nile and Copley are close to the wall on the other side of the room, tied up in the same way Nicky and Andy were, and they’re both alive. It’s easier to get to them and free them than it has been with Nicky and Andy because it’s the four of them now coming to their rescue, there are fewer guards, and no Merrick and no Dr. Kozak, no torture or killing or sick and twisted experiments. 

When they’ve freed Copley and Nile, Joe takes off his jacket and places it over Nicky’s shoulders, gratefully watching Nicky slip into it. He knows that Nicky doesn’t really need it but he also knows that Nicky desperately wants it. And he wants Nicky to have it. It’s a meager substitute for what they both _really_ want and need, but for now it will have to do, and something inside of Joe settles when Nicky turns his head and gives him a tentative smile.

Nile has to support Copley, and Booker has Andy’s arm slung over his shoulder and his own wrapped around her waist as they run towards the van as fast as they can. Once they’re inside, Booker behind the wheel and Andy next to him, Joe and the others in the back, Joe pulls Nicky into his arms and holds him so close he can feel Nicky’s heart beating in his chest. Nicky lets him, and after a short while his arms wrap around Joe as well, and he’s trembling against Joe’s chest with ebbing tension and relief.

Joe’s lips find Nicky’s, and Joe drinks him in; he feasts on his breath, his taste, his heartbeat, until he’s throbbing in his pants. It doesn’t take long, and when Nicky groans into their kiss, Joe knows he’s just the same. It takes Joe an immeasurable effort to hold back, to break the kiss and let go of Nicky again. _Not now. Not yet._ He takes a deep, shaky breath, and when he turns his head and his and Nicky’s eyes meet, when Nicky’s lips curl into a faint smile and Nicky nods, Joe’s chest expands with joy.

Just a moment later, Joe and Nicky are holding each other again, the need to be close too strong to resist. They’re keeping their touches and caresses light, body against body, heartbeat against heartbeat, trying to breathe as calmly as possible. With every time their lips meet, though, it becomes more difficult for them to maintain control. Nile and Copley pretend not to notice or at least not to care, leaning against the wall of the van opposite Joe and Nicky with their eyes closed, but Joe knows they do. Notice and care. For every time Nicky whispers something against Joe’s lips, every time a quiet moan falls from Joe’s mouth, Joe can see or hear them shift.

As soon Booker pulls up in front of the motel and brings the vehicle to a stop, Joe and Nicky are out of the van, and Joe grabs Nicky’s arm hard and drags him to their room. Nile gives him a brief nod when he turns around before he unlocks the door, and Joe knows that she’ll take care of everything. The last thing he hears from the outside world, the last thing that registers that isn’t Nicky and him, is the driver’s door being slammed shut and Nile calling Booker’s name.


	6. Chapter 6

There is no finesse in what happens as soon as the door falls shut behind them and far too little tenderness. It’s raw and desperate, no matter how much they both try to be gentle whenever their minds clear for a second. Joe captures Nicky’s mouth in a brutal, bruising kiss that leaves them both breathless after only mere moments, and when he ends it only to turn Nicky around and shove him against the nearest wall, they’re both panting with lack of oxygen and with desperation. 

Joe’s achingly hard when he undoes Nicky’s belt and the button and the zipper, and when he pulls Nicky’s pants down over Nicky’s ass and cock, Nicky groans with need. Joe’s own cock twitches almost painfully when he pushes Nicky’s pants down almost to his knees, and his fingers tremble as he makes quick work of his own belt and buttons. 

His cock is hard and heavy in his hand when he frees it, too impatient to shove his pants down further than he manages at first try, and it throbs and swells against his palm, hot and straining. A thin strand of pre-come oozes from its tip, and Joe bites his lips as he takes a small step forward and runs his free hand over the swell of Nicky’s ass once. It’s the only tenderness the burning need inside him allows for now even though Joe longs to shower Nicky with gentle caresses after everything he has been through. When he brings his fingers between Nicky’s cheeks and spreads them as good as he can like this, when lets go of himself and spits into his hand, Nicky moans, a stifled sound of utter need. And when he brings the tip of his cock to Nicky’s entrance, Joe can hear how Nicky sucks in a sharp breath and then holds it. The room is so silent when Joe holds his breath as well that their heartbeats sound like thunder. For a moment, time stands still.

Then, Joe breaches Nicky’s body, and Nicky pushes backward, another strangled moan falling from his lips. Joe huffs, an overwhelmingly intense feeling of relief spreading through him. He’s aware he might still be hurting Nicky, but he can’t help it; and he also knows Nicky wants, no – _needs_ this as well. It feels so good to bury himself in this tight heat, the pain feels so good, so incredibly right, and for a moment it’s everything there is.

Joe stills, eyes squeezed shut and his forehead pressed against the nape of Nicky’s neck. Nicky’s trembling around him, his muscles tight and tense, and he’s so incredibly warm and alive Joe’s heart misses a beat. He can feel Nicky willing himself to stay still just like Joe, fighting against his body’s impulse to pull away – or to push back. Joe waits, letting the tip of his tongue touch Nicky’s skin between his shoulder blades and running his hands down Nicky’s sides as gently as he can, trying to calm both himself and Nicky. Joe’s will fights a desperate battle against his body, his soul’s desire to heal and to soothe struggling to keep his body’s as deeply rooted need at bay. He waits till he can feel Nicky relax a bit, trembling with the effort to rein himself in and to hold back just a little longer. His desperate resolve is destroyed in a single instant, though, when Nicky speaks. The only thing it takes to shatter all of Joe’s defenses is one whispered word.

“Yusuf—”

Joe’s body begins to move without his conscious doing, and soon he’s fucking into Nicky with frantic thrusts, one hand fisted into Nicky’s hair and the other splayed between Nicky’s shoulder blades, his head thrown back and his throat dry with want. His hips stutter, and Nicky pushes back again and again, meeting each and every one of Joe’s thrusts, and when Joe can feel his climax building in his groin and behind his eyes, he pulls out and turns Nicky around, his touch raw and rough. He shoves Nicky against the wall again, this time with his back against the tattered wallpaper, and crouches down to pull Nicky’s pants off, his own leaking cock pressing against his stomach, already straining for release. He curses under his breath when Nicky’s foot gets caught in the pants’ leg, but finally, finally they’re off, and Joe rises to his feet again.

He cups Nicky’s face, searching for Nicky’s eyes. His breathing is coming in panted gasps, just like Nicky’s, and Nicky’s eyes are filled with need and arousal and a tenderness that cuts right through Joe’s heart, right to his very core. 

“My life,” Joe whispers, brushing his lips against Nicky’s lightly, and he can feel Nicky smile.

In one swift movement Joe lifts Nicky up, and Nicky’s legs wrap around his waist. Joe’s fingers are sticky with saliva and sweat and with his own pre-come, and probably Nicky’s, too, when he grabs hold of himself again, even though he doesn’t recall touching either of their cocks. The sensation of entering Nicky again is both the source of the most exquisite pleasure and of the most excruciating pain as the need to spend himself finally takes over everything else. 

He fucks into Nicky so hard he’s sure Nicky’s back is scraped bloody against the wall, but Nicky urges him on with greedy fingertips, with throaty moans, with his lips fluttering against Joe’s in a silent scream. He urges him on with his tightness and the sweat pooling at the hollow of his throat, and he urges him on when he bites Joe’s lips _hard_ , and Joe’s blood mixes with his. 

Nicky cants his hips, and his cock slides against Joe’s stomach like white-hot iron, and this is when Joe knows he’s going to come. His fingers wrap around Nicky, and he strokes, once, twice, erratic and far too rough. When Nicky’s back arches, when Nicky _fucks_ into Joe’s fist, and when Joe feels the first spurt of Nicky’s release on his skin, he falls.

His climax is so intense, so violent it hurts. He squeezes his eyes shut so tight he sees stars, and he’s sure he’s leaving bruises on Nicky’s skin where his fingers dig into it. Wave after wave of release washes through him, and it gets more poignant with every single one of those waves until he’s sure he can’t stand it for one more moment. It’s too much, it’s just too much, and if it weren’t for Nicky holding him close and panting his own ebbing climax against Joe’s throat and shoulder and into Joe’s hair, Joe wouldn’t be able to take it.

But Nicky is there, he’s right there with him, and he’s warm and solid and heavy and alive, and that’s all that matters. 

When Joe can form thoughts again and has regained a small amount of command over his body, Nicky’s and his lips meet in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, their hips now lazily rolling and their bodies still vibrating with their joint release. Nicky hums against Joe’s lips as if he were tasting something incredibly delicious. They’re still so very much out of breath it’s ridiculous.

Joe chuckles, and his own voice sounds alien to him, raw and sated at the same time. “We—” He swallows thickly and kisses Nicky again, and this time it’s his time to hum with pleasure. “We probably—We were loud, I think. They probably all heard…”

“I don’t care,” Nicky murmurs against Joe’s lips, and the vibrations of his voice send a shiver down Joe’s spine and coax another weak spurt of come from his oversensitive cock. Joe can feel Nicky smile. “I don’t care who heard.”

They stay like that for another few moments, brushing their lips against each other, nipping at each other, before Joe slips out and Nicky carefully uncrosses his ankles and lowers his legs. When Nicky’s standing on his feet again, Joe cups his face with both hands and places a tender kiss on Nicky’s pliant, swollen lips.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he murmurs, searching Nicky’s eyes. “I’m sorry I was so—that I couldn’t—”

Nicky shakes his head and kisses him, slowly and gently, his lips a reassuring pressure against Joe’s. “It is what I wanted, my love,” he says, and a small smile forms on his face. “It is what I needed. You did nothing wrong.”

Joe can’t help but smile back then, and he lets his thumbs brush over Nicky’s cheekbones. “It should have been gentle,” he says, stroking over Nicky’s lower lip with a featherlight touch. “After everything you’ve been through. I shouldn’t have—But I _needed_ ,” he adds after a short pause. “I just… needed you so much.”

“I know,” Nicky nods, letting his tongue dart out. He touches its tip to Joe’s thumb, and Joe shivers. “You can be gentle later, as gentle as you need to be with me then. But I want a shower first.”

“And some sleep,” Joe smiles, and Nicky nods.

“Yeah, a little bit of sleep would be good. They didn’t let us sleep much. Part of the ‘experiments’, they said.”

Joe winces. “I’m so sorry,” he says, and the smile fades from Nicky’s eyes at his words. “I’m so sorry I let that happen to you.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nicky says, and his voice takes on a stern note. “Listen to me, Yusuf, my love. None of that was your fault. And you could have done nothing to prevent it.”

“Okay,” Joe says, and he knows he doesn’t sound convinced at all. “If you sa—”

“And I don’t even want to think about what you had to do to get us back,” Nicky cuts in, and Joe winces. He doesn’t want to think about that either, not now. Not yet. But there they are in his mind, Booker’s lips. And he wonders how, as always, Nicky seems to _know_ somehow.

They will have to talk about it eventually, Joe knows that, but just for this moment he pushes it away and kisses Nicky again. He tries to close off his mind against it but he can’t help but think about if Booker would want to kiss him, too, and how different it would feel from this, how different it would taste. The image of Booker’s lips worms its way into his thoughts again, and for a moment Joe lets it. Then, he chases it away once more, as far away as he can, his stomach twisting with how strange it feels – and with the lingering fear of what Nicky’s going to say if he finds out.

“Come on, then,” Joe says when he breaks the kiss. “Let’s take a shower and then get some sleep. We can meet with the others for a quick bite, after. You must be hungry.”

“Starving,” Nicky says, and the smile returns to his face. “We weren’t given much food either.”

“Shit,” Joe hisses, a knot threatening to form in his stomach, but it is immediately soothed by the gentleness with which Nicky takes Joe’s hand in his. 

“Come on,” Nicky murmurs, stroking the back of Joe’s hand lightly with his thumb. “Shower.”


	7. Chapter 7

They shower together, cleaning each other’s bodies of blood, filth and grime and their minds of gruesome memories and fear. Their kisses are unhurried just like their hands, and when they finally step out from under the warm spray their muscles are so much less tense. All of their wounds have healed, and the bruises Joe’s fingers have left on Nicky’s arms and legs have faded.

Dinner with the rest of the team is a solemn and silent affair, blank, tired glances exchanged over stale diner food, thin paper napkins crumpled on the scratched surface of a formica table somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Joe’s hand rests on Nicky’s thigh the entire time, and Nicky winces a little when Joe’s fingers dig into his muscles when Andy rises from her chair first.

“We’ll discuss how to proceed from here tomorrow, not now,” she says, and Joe can’t help but wonder how worn out she looks. The bruises on her face and around her throat are real, and they haven’t faded, and there are still angry red welts around her wrists. “We all could use some sleep.”

Booker nods. He wipes his mouth with another paper napkin and tosses it onto the table next to his plate. For a moment, his and Joe’s eyes meet.

Joe can’t read the look he finds there, but when Booker gives him a curt nod he nods back and catches Nicky’s hand in his. “Tomorrow,” he says, catching himself as his gaze drops to Booker’s mouth for a second, and Booker nods again.

“Yeah,” Booker says, and Joe pushes his chair back, and he and Nicky rise and exit the diner, leaving Booker, Nile and Copley behind.

When they’re back in their motel room Joe and Nicky silently undress and slip beneath the covers naked. Joe spoons up against the length of Nicky’s back, pulling him into his arms and holding him close.

After just a few deep breaths they fall asleep like that, and when Joe wakes up a couple of hours later, Nicky is still so very warm and alive in his arms it makes him smile. 

The sun’s just beginning to rise outside, there’s a faint shimmer of morning light streaming in through a gap in the curtains. It catches on the shell of Nicky’s ear, the finest hairs there so beautiful and soft that Joe can’t help but nuzzle against it. Nicky smells incredibly good, so Joe inhales and drinks in his scent, reveling in the possibilities that present themselves right here and now.

Joe’s cock has been half hard ever since he had woken up, and it stirs between their bodies, hardening further. Joe bites his lips. He’s trying to keep his hands from roaming Nicky’s body, trying to keep them from smoothing down Nicky’s chest and stomach, trying to keep them from travelling upwards again, to Nicky’s clavicles and shoulders, his arms, his throat and his face. He fails.

Joe’s hands and his fingers seem to have developed a mind of their own, a desire and need entirely of their own, as have his lips and his tongue, as has his cock.

Nicky stirs in his sleep but he doesn’t wake up just yet. He hums low in his throat, though, shifting his position a little. 

Joe groans. His cock rises to full hardness, and when he readjusts his position it slots up with Nicky’s crack perfectly. His hips give the subtlest of rolls, and Joe can feel himself harden even further. He noses at the back of Nicky’s neck, open-mouthed and hungry, and when he feels Nicky’s hardening nipple against the tips of his fingers he can’t help but moan.

His other hand travels south. Nicky is just as hard as Joe is, and when his fingers carefully wrap around Nicky’s cock, it swells, and Nicky moans, too. 

Joe isn’t entirely sure if Nicky’s awake yet, so he mouths against Nicky’s skin. “Nicolò,” he whispers, “my heart…”

“Hmmmmmm,” Nicky hums, snuggling up against Joe a little closer, “ _si, sono qui…_ ”

The friction Nicky’s ass causes to Joe’s cock radiates through Joe’s entire system, and he can feel himself beginning to leak. Nicky’s skin is smooth again, and unblemished, and it’s the most beautiful thing Joe has ever seen, touched or tasted. “Hmmmmmmm,” he echoes and continues to caress Nicky’s body with tender touches and gentle strokes. “You feel so good—so good…”

Nicky’s one hand reaches behind and comes to rest on Joe’s hip, and his other hand finds its way into Joe’s hair, his fingers entwining with Joe’s curls, deliberately but carefully.

Joe flexes his hips a little, rubbing his cock against Nicky’s ass, and Nicky’s body answers Joe’s immediately. Joe can feel Nicky grow even harder in his fist, and when he moves his hand and runs his thumb over Nicky’s crown, he finds it smooth and wet.

“Hmmmmmm,” Joe hums again, his cock twitching in response. “So good….” He brings his other hand to Nicky’s face, lets his fingers ghost over Nicky’s features for a while, re-learning what he’d thought he’d lost. When his fingers reach Nicky’s mouth, they trace Nicky’s lips, and Nicky’s lips open and his tongue darts out and it’s almost more than Joe can take.

“Slow this time,” he murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and bites his lips to keep them from biting down into Nicky’s shoulder. “Gentle…”

“ _Si_ ,” Nicky breathes, his tongue still warm against Joe’s fingers, and his body already humming with desire. “Slow…” He starts rocking back against Joe’s groin, and after just a few moments, Joe can feel himself approaching the edge. From the way Nicky’s cock feels in his hand he takes that Nicky’s not much better off. So, Joe stills the strokes of his hand and takes a deep breath. 

“Stop,” he murmurs shakily, squeezing his eyes shut even more. “Stop, stop, stop… It’s too—”

Nicky stills, and very, very carefully Joe withdraws his fingers from Nicky’s mouth. Their tips leave wet trails on Nicky’s cheek and chin, and just that mere image is almost enough to push Joe past the point of no return. He wants to let his tongue travel in his fingertips’ wake, he wants to taste Nicky everywhere. He quickly lets go of Nicky’s cock and laces his fingers with Nicky’s.

“I need to slow down a bit, my love,” he murmurs, giving Nicky’s fingers a gentle squeeze. “Or I’ll—”

“Hm-hm,” Nicky nods and squeezes Joe’s hand in return. He sounds endearingly aroused, and that sends another wave of desire through Joe’s body. “Yeah, me too…”

“I want to see you this time,” Joe murmurs, and nudges Nicky a little while scooting backwards. “I want—”

Nicky follows Joe’s lead and rolls onto his back, his cock straining against his stomach. It’s still a little too dark to see colors properly but Joe can imagine the pinkish hue covering Nicky’s skin – on his face, on his chest and shoulders. He can see how dark Nicky’s cock is and how it twitches under Joe’s gaze. He can see how Nicky’s trying to calm his breathing and he can see how Nicky’s hands have grabbed hold of the sheets underneath him, his fingers fisting into the fabric tightly.

“Careful,” Nicky whispers through a breathless chuckle when Joe slots up to him, and he squeezes his eyes shut when Joe slides his leg over his, trying to roll a little on top of Nicky. “Careful, or I—”

When Joe feels Nicky tense against him, when he hears that one hitch in Nicky’s breathing, he knows he’s not going to last. A huffed sigh falls from his lips, and he presses his forehead against Nicky’s shoulder, and it’s just one more breath before he comes. He spends himself helplessly against Nicky’s skin, long, deep pulses of release, and his hips take up that rhythm that Joe’s completely and utterly defenseless against. It feels so good it hurts, and it gets even better when he can feel Nicky follow him into the abyss, when he can feel Nicky’s hot, sticky come on his skin. Nicky comes almost completely silently, just every now and then his breathing hitches in his throat, and when Joe’s fingers find Nicky’s cock again it’s still pulsing with climax. 

Feeling Nicky come undone like this is intoxicating. It’s better than coming himself, and Joe savors every second of it. He strokes Nicky through it lightly, still rutting against Nicky’s leg with those slow, shallow thrusts, until Nicky’s hand comes to rest on his, stilling it with a gentle pressure. Joe smiles. He loves how sensitive Nicky gets during the final waves of his climax and even more so right after. He loves how every little touch can be too much for Nicky then, and he loves to feel Nicky like this, vibrating with release and still so incredibly hungry for more.

Nicky chuckles, and Joe can’t help but chime in. “That was quick”, Joe murmurs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, my love. All the things I wanted to do to you and I just—”

“Shhhhhh,” Nicky shushes him, tilting his head to search for Joe’s lips. He’s still hard, even after his orgasm, and so is Joe. “I want—You can still do that. All of it.”

Their kiss is deep and messy, and Joe can feel his arousal rise again with every breath they don’t take, with every beat of their hearts. He feels the heat build inside of him again, and after a short while, a newly awakened desire urges their bodies to move again. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Joe murmurs against Nicky’s hot and swollen lips, and Nicky nods.

“I know,” Nicky whispers, brushing his thumb over Joe’s eyelids, his cheeks. And when Joe’s eyes flutter open and their gazes meet, he says it again: “I know.”

Joe takes a deep breath and nods. Then he rises until he’s on his knees so he can lean over and retrieve a bottle of lube from his bag. His eternal optimism makes him smile. It amuses him that he actually thought of bringing lube but he’s also glad that he did. Of course, he knows that Nicky doesn’t need it, not really, but _he_ does, sometimes _he_ does, and especially today.

He takes his time working Nicky open, from the very first moment he breaches Nicky’s body with just the very tip of his finger until the moment Nicky’s basically fucking himself on Joe’s fingers, an incoherent stream of words pouring from his lips, pleas and curses and words of utter pleasure. Joe’s painfully aroused himself by the time Nicky’s almost out of his mind with this need, but this time he finds the time and strength to pause for a moment. He withdraws his fingers and sits back on his heels.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, letting his eyes drink in the incredible sight before him. “You’re so beautiful like this. And I’m so glad. I’m just so fucking glad—”

“I know,” Nicky says again and reaches for Joe’s upper thigh, touching his fingertips to Joe’s taut skin. “I know. Me, too, my life. Me, too.”

Joe swallows as Nicky spreads his legs a little further, an offer and a plea. He’s always wanted Nicky, always, ever since their first time back in that hut in Jerusalem. But he’s never wanted him this much.

“You say that every time,” Nicky smiles, and only then does Joe realize that he must have said that out loud. 

“It’s true every time,” Joe says and scoots forward, positioning himself. The tip of his cock nudges at Nicky’s entrance carefully, and Joe can’t take his eyes off that part of Nicky’s body that opens up to him just like that, little bit by little bit, completely mesmerized by the miracle Nicky’s body presents.

When Joe’s fully sheathed in Nicky’s tight heat, he stills. This. This is what he’s needed so bad and what Nicky now gives to him more generously than he deserves. The world zeroes in on this, and for a moment Joe doesn’t know anything beyond this.

“I—” He stops and sucks in a sharp breath when Nicky tightens around him and then relaxes again. Exhaling shakily, he tries again. “I can feel your heartbeat around me,” he whispers, slowly looking up, only to find Nicky’s eyes fixed on him and wide and dark with need. “I can feel you, I—” When Nicky tightens around him again, Joe bites his lips and holds his breath. For a moment there he thinks he can’t stay still for a second longer, and his body shudders with the overwhelming urge to move, but he wills himself to hold back, just a little longer, to savor this, to take this as slow and to be as gentle as Nicky deserves. As they both deserve. “You—” He pauses again and takes a deep, calming breath. His body trembles with a moan when he exhales again. “You’re alive—You—”

“Yes,” Nicky whispers, and his muscles tense as he tries to raise his upper body and meet Joe’s lips for a kiss. “Yes, yes, I am. I am here, yes—”

“My life,” Joe murmurs, leaning forward and down until his lips finally brush against Nicky’s. 

Nicky is trembling with the effort to hold this position, and when Joe lets his tongue dart out and touches its tip to Nicky’s lips, a violent shiver runs through Nicky, and he falls back onto his back, eyes glittering and wide with desire. “Kiss me,” he whispers, and his eyes follow the tip of Joe’s tongue as it traces Joe’s own lip, chasing after the lingering taste of Nicky’s lips and skin. “Kiss me, please—”

It’s the _please_ that does Joe in, the note in Nicky’s voice when he says it. That’s when it hits Joe, that’s when he realizes, when he _understands_ that Nicky had thought Joe dead, truly dead, and that he had not just been consumed by the fear he’d never see his other half again but utterly destroyed by the knowledge and the certainty that he wouldn’t. Nicky’s eyes bore into his, and Joe can feel his own eyes begin to prickle and sting with the intensity of the expression in Nicky’s. Joe’s breathing hitches, and he has to blink, he has to shake his head just a little, but his eyes always return to Nicky’s. He watches the look in Nicky’s eyes change from lingering bottomless despair and unbearable pain to complete and utter joy and a love so overwhelming it makes Joe’s head spin.

“Move, please,” Nicky murmurs, and another shiver runs through his body. “Yusuf, my life, _please_. Please, let me feel you. _Please_ —”

There’s desire in Nicky’s eyes, arousal, want, hunger, need. It’s everything Joe feels, and for the first time in over nine hundred years, for the first time in nearly a millennium, Joe understands that Nicky’s eyes are mirrors. 

Nicky’s eyes tell Joe that he’s just as desperate for this as Nicky is, that he wants this just as much. That there is no difference between pain and pleasure for them when they’re together like this, there’s no hurt, just healing, and no loss, just this ever-growing, all-encompassing love. Nicky’s eyes mirror all that and more. Just like his own.

As slowly and as steadily as he can he pulls out, the tip of his cock trembling at Nicky’s entrance. For a second or two he just nudges Nicky there, just not quite entering him again, but then the longing to be inside again becomes too powerful, and he breaches Nicky’s body once more.

There’s a little less hesitation in the way he slides into Nicky this time, a little more intent, even though he musters all the effort he can to be careful, gentle, slow. When he’s all the way inside, he pauses, cups the back of Nicky’s head and pulls him up for a deep, claiming kiss. He leans his forehead against Nicky’s once they’ve to come up for air and let’s his hips roll just the slightest bit.

Nicky’s reaction is immediate. Joe can practically feel the spike of arousal shooting through Nicky’s body and how it culminates in a desperate twitch of Nicky’s cock between their bellies. Nicky moans into their kiss, and Joe drinks that moan from Nicky’s lips, and it fills him like the very essence of life. 

Joe rolls his hips again and again, slowly, deliberately, and with time, his movements become a little deeper and grow a little more desperate and intense. He props himself up on his elbows, his body nestled between Nicky’s legs, and lets the rhythm of their desire carry them for a while. When he can feel Nicky getting closer and closer to the brink, he slows down, though, until he’s barely moving anymore. 

“Yusuf,” Nicky moans, trying to flex his hips, to keep Joe moving. “Please—”

Joe shakes his head, and his lips curl into a smile. “Not yet,” he says; then he cups Nicky’s face and brushes his lips over Nicky’s. “Not yet…”

After a short pause, Nicky nods as well, and Joe catches Nicky’s lower lip between his teeth. Nicky is so incredibly warm and tight around Joe, and Joe can feel every heartbeat they share; the pleasure originates in and around his cock and spreads through Joe’s entire body from there with such intensity that he loses sense of anything else. “Nicolò,” he gasps when Nicky tightens his muscles around him and smiles against Joe’s lips. “My _life_ —”

He kisses Nicky briefly, yet greedily, then he wraps his arms around Nicky’s torso and waist and pulls him against his chest, scoops him up in his arms. He slowly rises until he’s kneeling. Nicky’s arms wrap around Joe’s neck and Nicky’s lips cling to his like a magnet. Carefully, Joe lifts Nicky up a little, raising his hips as well to stay inside. He moves so his legs stretch out under Nicky’s, and Nicky’s legs wrap around Joe’s waist, keeping Nicky settled securely in Joe’s lap. 

Nicky buries his face against Joe’s shoulder and sighs, his left hand on the small of Joe’s back and the fingers of his right gently playing with Joe’s curls at the back of his neck. Joe smiles. This is one of Nicky’s favorite positions, and one of his, too. He’s so deep inside now, and when Nicky shifts just the slightest bit, when his hips just roll a little, the effect that has on Joe is mind-blowing. When Nicky does it again and Joe’s hips echo that movement of their own accord, Joe’s fingers dig into the muscles of Nicky’s back and a sound falls from his lips that sounds suspiciously like a sob, even to him. He can feel his cock swelling inside Nicky, and he has to force himself to keep his movements to a minimum, which, given the fact that his mind is fogged with need, seems like a superhuman effort. His body wants to move, and Nicky’s body wants that, too, Joe can feel it, but they both want to draw this out as well, ride this all-consuming building arousal until they can’t take it anymore.

“Slow,” he whispers into Nicky’s hair, and Nicky nods, the moan that escapes his mouth hot and wet against Joe’s skin. Joe’s heart is beating wildly in his chest, like a caged butterfly, and Nicky’s heartbeat is just as erratic. Nicky’s so beautiful like this, completely consumed by this, his cock hard and its tip hot and leaking between them, drawing every surge of arousal onto Joe’s skin with burning colors of fire and want. 

Nicky mouths something against Joe’s shoulder, unintelligible at first, but Joe slowly learns to read the words Nicky’s lips kiss onto his skin. _Please_ , Nicky says, _please_ , over and over again, _please_.

“Yes,” Joe moans into Nicky’s hair, Nicky’s soft, sweat-drenched hair, “yes, yes, my love, yes…” He nods, and his cock twitches inside, and the hold of Nicky’s legs around Joe tightens when he starts to move again. He sets a slow pace at first, supporting Nicky’s position with firm yet gentle hands on Nicky’s back, but soon his movements become faster, deeper, more deliberate. His whole body is straining for release, and there’s no way he’s going to be able to stave off the inevitable for very much longer.

Nicky is shaking in his arms, his moans and gasps a perpetual plea, and Joe fucks into Nicky as hard as the angle of their position permits. He wants Nicky to fall first, he needs Nicky to fall first so he bites his lips and squeezes his eyes shut to last a little longer, just a little longer—

When he’s sure he can’t take it anymore, when his orgasm is so close he can taste and feel it everywhere, he pulls Nicky even closer against him, and his lungs suck in a sharp breath, and then another one and another. “Please.” It’s his turn to beg now, his turn to coax Nicky further and further until he finally lets himself fall. “Please, my love, my life, Nicolò, _please_ —”

“Ahhh—”

It’s something between a huff and a moan, the throaty sound that falls from Nicky’s lips, and Joe can feel how Nicky tenses everywhere, how his fingers become iron pins and how the shivers running through him build and build and build. He wants Nicky to come, he needs Nicky to come, and that’s what he tells him, what he tells him with broken words and erratic thrusts, with fractured moans and shattered touches.

“Please, please, my life—Lose yourself in me—”

A second before Nicky begins to spill himself, his body changes; it goes rigid and deep, and Nicky throws his head back, his mouth open in a silent scream. When the first strand of Nicky’s come touches Joe’s skin, his world fills with white-hot bliss. He fucks into Nicky one more time, and then he comes, too. He empties himself deep inside Nicky, his body utterly shattered, and its shards and splinters washed away by waves and waves of sheer pleasure. It’s so intense it nearly chokes him, and in his lap, Nicky is coming, too, still, again, Joe doesn’t know. 

They’re both shaking when it ebbs, babbling and moaning, and Joe can’t believe Nicky’s cock is still twitching, that Nicky’s _still_ coming, that _he’s_ still coming. He holds Nicky till it’s over, and when it is, their bodies collapse onto the mattress, Nicky on top of Joe, panting and still connected. They’re so wound up with need that Joe’s still hard, and so is Nicky.

After a few breathless moments Nicky gasps and begins to move anew, fucking himself on Joe’s cock until he spills himself again. His strangled moan pulls Joe with him over the edge once more, and Joe comes until he’s utterly spent. It’s so intense it’s agonizing, and for a moment it feels like dying.

When he comes back to his senses, Nicky’s resting on top of him, his breathing still heavy and his skin sticky with sweat and come. Joe can feel how his softening cock is beginning to slip out, and his hold on Nicky tightens. They both moan when it happens, and Nicky tilts his head so his lips find Joe’s.

Their kiss is slow, gentle, unhurried, and they both smile into it near the end. 

“My life,” Joe whispers, and Nicky’s words echo his just like Nicky’s eyes were mirrors earlier.

“My life.”


	8. Chapter 8

Joe doesn’t know how late it is when Nicky wakes up. All he knows is that he’s been awake for quite some time himself, lying next to the love of his life and the life of his love, propped up on one elbow, looking at Nicky’s terrifyingly beautiful face.

Nicky seems relaxed, sometimes he stirs in his sleep or smacks his lips, but there are no abrupt movements, no jerks or winces, and his lips look as soft and pliant as the new day.

Joe smiles. The sooner Nicky can forget what happened over the last seven days the better, even though he doubts it will be that soon. Just like Nicky’s body, Nicky’s mind sometimes has difficulties to let go, and this may be one of those times. Joe bites his lips to suppress a sigh. Especially when he tells Nicky what he’s done. His heart is heavy with it just like his body is heavy with satisfaction. Even after nine hundred years Joe doesn’t know how Nicky’s going to react when he tells him. He’s going to hurt Nicky with this, that’s the only thing that seems certain to Joe right now. 

Nicky stirs a little, and Joe can feel Nicky’s body mode change. He’s going to wake up soon, Joe thinks, and pulls his free hand out from under the covers where it has been resting on Nicky’s thigh. He brings it to Nicky’s face and brushes a stray strand of hair from Nicky’s forehead, lightly and very carefully, as not to disturb or to startle him. Soon, those eyelids are going to flutter open, and Joe can’t wait to see Nicky’s eyes, even though it may be the last time he’ll get to see them like this.

Nicky smacks his lips again and turns his head towards Joe, trying to trace the fleeting caress. 

Joe’s smile broadens for a while and he brings his hand closer, gently cupping Nicky’s jaw. Nicky yawns, and that’s the most endearing thing Joe has ever seen. Nicky’s face scrunches up, his nose wrinkles and his head tilts back a little. When he’s done yawning, Nicky scoots a little closer to Joe and opens his eyes.

“My love,” are the first words out of Nicky’s mouth, and Joe’s stomach drops. 

“Hey,” Joe murmurs, softly tracing the lines of Nicky’s face with his fingertips. “Good morning.” Nicky’s eyes lock with his, and after a short moment, the look in them changes.

“Yusuf. What is wrong?”

Joe’s heart sinks, and he says: “I did something terrible, my life. Something I don’t know how to make right again. It can’t be undone, and I don’t know—”

“What are you talking about?” Nicky asks, catching Joe’s fingers in his. “What—”

“I couldn’t find you,” Joe cuts in. He needs to get this out now, out and over with, so he talks fast, as fast as he can. “It took me a day to heal, and when I got to Copley, he was gone, too. I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared and I—”

“Booker,” Nicky says, and Joe nods. 

“Yes.“

“He asked for a price, of course.”

Joe nods again, the lump in his throat too big to form words around.

“What did he—” Nicky falls silent, and his eyes widen a little. “ _Oh._ ”

Joe wants to look away, his cheeks burning and his throat raw with pain. But he can’t. Nicky’s eyes hold him captive. Then, Nicky’s fingers around his tighten, and Nicky nods.

“It’s what he wants most. What he has always wanted most.”

“You know.” Joe‘s voice sounds hollow, even to himself.

Nicky nods and squeezes Joe’s fingers again. “I know. Of course, I know, my love.”

Nicky’s words are so soft, so gentle, and there is so much love and forgiveness in them Joe’s eyes begin to sting.

“I couldn’t—” Joe clears his throat and swallows thickly. “I didn’t know where you were and I—I needed you safe. I need you safe, and I—”

“How?” Nicky asks, and for a moment Joe allows himself to pretend he doesn’t know what Nicky means. But then Nicky clarifies. “How much? For how long?”

Joe closes his eyes and shakes his head, his eyes burning with unshed tears. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “I—He said he’d decide after.”

“I see,” Nicky says, squeezing Joe’s fingers again. Then, his lips curl into the faintest of smiles. “Did you think last night was our last time, then?”

Joe shakes his head, shrugs, shakes his head again, huffs.

“He is not going to do that to us, hayati,” Nicky says, smiling. “He is a good man. And he loves you. He is not going to do that to _you_.”

“I—I don’t know. He might.”

Nicky’s smile fades a little as he brings Joe’s fingers to his mouth. He places a soft kiss on Joe’s knuckles and closes his eyes for a brief moment. “When?” he asks quietly after he’s opened them again. 

“I’ll go to him after breakfast,” Joe says, tightening his hold around Nicky’s fingers. “I’ll talk to him then, I mean.”

Nicky nods. “When you go to him, I am coming with you,” he says, kissing Joe’s knuckles again. 

Joe knows that there’s no use in trying to talk Nicky out of it, so he just closes his eyes and nods.

*****

After their breakfast that Joe fetches from the same diner they had dinner at last night, Joe texts Booker to meet him at the van in half an hour while Nicky disposes of the left-over food. Putting his phone down on the dresser next to the bed, he looks up and catches his own reflection in the mirror hanging over it. As if in slow motion he watches himself bringing his hand to his mouth and running his fingers over his lips. He watches Nicky walking up to him, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind.

Nicky nuzzles at Joe’s shoulder blade a bit before he lifts his head so his chin comes to rest on top of Joe’s shoulder and their eyes meet in the mirror.

Nicky’s smiling, and Joe feels a stab in his guts when he can feel Nicky tense.

“There’s something else,” Nicky says, and Joe takes a shaky breath. Then he nods.

“I’ve—” He swallows thickly and lines his arms up with Nicky’s, holding him close. “I’ve been thinking about it. About how it would be when—”

Nicky tilts his head a bit when Joe falls silent, and a faint look of concentration appears on his face. “I see,” he says and nods a little, his chin nudging Joe’s shoulder. “Booker is a beautiful man.”

“What? _No!_ That isn’t—”

“Shhh,” Nicky cuts in and takes a small step back. Then he turns Joe around and wraps his arms around Joe’s waist again. His eyes search for Joe’s, and when their gazes meet, there is nothing but gentleness in the way Nicky looks at him. “Let me finish.”

“Okay,” Joe whispers, his heart beating in his throat. When Nicky smiles, Joe’s stomach lurches, even though it is just the faintest of smiles. “Okay.”

“Booker is a beautiful man,” Nicky repeats, and Joe has to bite his lips to keep himself from interrupting. “Very beautiful. I know that. I can see that, too. And I can see how he looks at you. And whatever happens, I want you to know that I know you are not—that it is not the same. And I want you to know that we are going to be okay. This is not something I fear.”

“How can you say that? How can you—”

This time, Nicky silences Joe by capturing his lips with his own, a gentle but firm kiss that leaves Joe’s head spinning. 

“Because I know you will come back to me, Yusuf. I know you will always come back to me. I am not—I know I can never lose you, no matter what happens or how long we may be apart or for whatever reasons. I know you will always find your way back to me.”

“Nicolò—”

“Shhhhh,” Nicky shushes Joe again and places another gentle kiss on Joe’s lips. When he locks eyes with Joe again, there’s something like chiding mischief in his eyes, and the same expression plays around the corners of Nicky’s mouth. “I am not finished. Whatever happens, I do not want you—It is going to be all right if you enjoy it. I would want you to.” Another kiss, and when they break apart, Nicky’s expression is so full of love it tears the earth open beneath Joe’s feet.

“You know I couldn’t, my love,” Joe says, reaching up to cup Nicky’s face with his right hand. Nicky leans into the touch, covering Joe’s hand with his own. “Not without you. Never without you…”

“Now there is a thought,” Nicky murmurs, brushing his lips against Joe’s palm. Again, Joe can feel him smiling, and when Nicky shifts, Joe can feel Nicky’s cock stirring ever so slightly against Joe’s groin.

“You like that,” Joe says, and the way Nicky nods, a little embarrassed and also a little eager, makes Joe smile as well despite the gravity of what may lie ahead. “You like that thought—”

“Yes,” Nicky murmurs, hiding his mouth against Joe’s palm and closing his eyes. He inhales deeply, and Joe can feel how his breathing trembles. He shifts his stance again, and Joe can feel him biting his lips. “Yes, I like it.”

Joe buries his nose in Nicky’s hair and takes a deep breath as well, his heart racing in his chest for reasons he isn’t sure he’s able to name. “Are you suggesting—”

Nicky cuts him short by taking a step backwards and thereby breaking their embrace. “He might enjoy it too, like that,” Nicky says after an intense pause. “Because he would know that _you_ would enjoy it like that.” He looks serious, but there’s still that echo of that smile from earlier. “Let us see how it goes, what he wants,” he says, and Joe nods. “We will take it from there.”

Joe checks the time on his phone – they have five more minutes before they have to leave to meet with Booker, so Joe pulls Nicky close again and tightens his arms around him. “I love you,” he murmurs, and Nicky nods. “I love you more than life itself.”

“I know,” Nicky says, his lips ghosting over the skin of Joe’s throat. “That is why I have no fear. It will be all right. _Tutto andrà bene_ , my love. Do not worry.”

Nicky reaches for Joe’s hand and takes it in his when they leave their room a few minutes later, their skin still warm from the intimate proximity they’ve just shared, and he doesn’t let go of it all the way across the almost empty parking lot, not even when they’ve reached Booker who’s leaning against the side of the van. It’s been many, many years since they’ve held hands like that, since Nicky has held Joe’s hand because Joe was scared and needed the support.

It’s bright outside, and Booker’s wearing sunglasses with the sun in his back while Joe has to blink against the already piercing rays. They stop a few feet away, Nicky’s hand squeezing his lightly. 

Booker gives them a curt nod.

Joe clears his throat. “Thank you for your help, Sebastien,” he says, and he’s surprised how firm he’s able to make his voice sound. But maybe that’s because he really means it. “I—I couldn’t have done this without you. I owe you everything. Thank you for helping me bring Nicky back. And the others.”

Booker inhales deeply and chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment before he nods again, shifting uncomfortably. The silence stretching between them is almost deafening.

“Your price,” Joe says, and his fingers become clamps around Nicky’s. “Name it.”

Booker’s nose scrunches up a little, and his eyebrows frown over the frame of his sunglasses, then he shifts his stance again and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Forget about it. It’s on the house,” he says.

Joe’s mind does a double take, and he isn’t sure he’s heard Booker right. Next to him, he can feel Nicky tense as well.

“What?”

“I don’t want anything _in return_. They’re _my_ family, too. Nicky’s my family, too. _You_ are my family, too.”

“You’re not going to—You don’t want—”

“I was curious how far you’d be willing to go,” Booker cuts in. He chuckles mirthlessly. “And I was angry. I didn’t think you’d be willing to do _that_ , to offer me _that_ , though. I should have. I should have known that you’d do anything. Forgive me. I had no right.” He takes off his sunglasses and nods, blinking against the sunlight, and for a moment his and Joe’s eyes meet. When Joe nods in return, Booker turns to Nicky, “Good to have you back in one piece, Nicky.”

Joe still can’t believe what he’s just heard, even though he’s been able to see in Booker’s eyes that it must be true. His stomach flutters, and his heart misses a beat. “You’re serious,” he says, and realization begins to sink in with every syllable he speaks. “You’re not going to make me pay for—”

“You’re a good man, Booker,” Nicky says, his voice serene and suddenly full of sunshine. “Thank you, my brother.” He lets go of Joe’s hand and closes the distance between himself and Booker. Smiling, he reaches for him and pulls him into a tight embrace. Booker lets it happen, and after a moment, he even relaxes a bit and hugs Nicky back. It’s a little awkward but it is genuine.

Joe knows that he should say something, too, that he should thank Booker as well, but he can’t. He can’t think, he can’t form words. All he can do is let that profound feelings of relief and utter gratitude fill him to the brim. The distance between him and Booker fills with love when Nicky lets go and Booker leans back against the car again, and even if neither of them moves it feels as if they embrace as well. He turns his head, and Nicky is right there, smiling and utterly beautiful, Joe’s hand back in his. Joe can see in the look in Nicky’s eyes that Nicky knows exactly what Joe is thinking. 

After a second or two, Nicky nods, his smile broadening a little.

Joe takes a deep breath before he looks back at Booker, tilting his head a bit. “Andy’s going to take Nile to see the Grand Canyon. Nile’s never been. Copley’s flying back to London tomorrow. How about we… Go to a nicer place for a couple of days, you, Nicky and me. We could… spend some time together. Try this out.”

Booker’s eyes narrow and his stance becomes a little tense. He clears his throat before he speaks, repeating Joe’s words from earlier. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

Joe nods, but before he can reply, Nicky does.

“Spend the night with us, Booker. Let us find out how it feels.”

“You’re serious.”

“Yes,” Nicky says, raising his hand as if to reach out for Booker’s arm, but then he drops it again. “Yes, we are. Spend the night with us. We would like that.”

“Hm,” Booker huffs, and purses his lips. “Why?”

“Because we want to share this with you. Us.”

“Again, why?”

“I—” Joe clears his throat, and he and Nicky exchange a quick glance. Nicky’s still holding his hand, stroking over its back with his thumb. After all this time together, this is all they need. “I keep thinking about it. Ever since we got Nicky and the others out of there. Ever since Paris if I’m perfectly honest, which I really should be, with this. I would like to find out what it’s like. What it’s like to be with you like that.”

“Hm.” Booker kicks against the asphalt with the tip of his boot, pursing his lips. “And—”

“I would like that, too,” Nicky says quietly, and Booker’s head snaps up. The expression in his eyes is guarded, unreadable. 

“Suppose I agree to this,” Booker says after a long pause. “Suppose I say yes… Where would we go?”

“We’d get a nice place, a hotel or maybe a house somewhere for a couple of days. Somewhere we can be alone. Together. Where we have some privacy.”

“Hm,” Booker says again. “I don’t know. We’ll see.”

He briefly nods at them, then he pries himself away from the car and takes a step to the side. He puts his sunglasses back on and inhales sharply through his nose. “Let me know where. I’ll see.”

*****

The next day, Joe and Nicky leave for the west coast after a short but heartfelt goodbye from the rest of the team. Booker and Andy seem to have talked things over and maybe even out. Booker’s actually giving her a tentative but genuine smile when she and Nile get into a rental to leave for the Grand Canyon. They’ve made plans when and where to re-unite, and even though everything’s still raw and still torn around the edges, it feels very much like the first step towards a closure they all desperately need.

Joe has found a vacation rental a little north of Los Angeles. It’s a twelve-hour drive, and it’s a few minutes past midnight when he and Nicky arrive. They haven’t seen Booker since their conversation in the parking lot, but as soon as they’re there, Joe sends a text with the address to Booker’s cell. He pauses a little, looking up from his cell phone’s screen, and his eyes meet Nicky’s. Nicky nods, and Joe adds another short message.

_come join us we have the house for a week_


	9. Chapter 9

On the third day at the beach house there’s a car in the driveway when Joe and Nicky return from a grocery run.

Joe’s carrying a brown paper bag, and Nicky has a baguette under his arm and some flowers in his hand, fishing for the keys in the pocket of his pants with his other. The baguette falls to the ground when Nicky sees the car and stops in his tracks. He holds his hand out to make Joe stop as well. When he turns his head backwards to look at Joe over his shoulder, he smiles. “He is here,” he says, “he came,” and Joe nods. 

“Yeah, I think that might be him.”

Nicky’s smile broadens to a radiant grin. He quickly picks up the baguette and all but jogs the last few feet to the door. 

Once they’re inside the house, they can immediately tell that someone else is there. There’s a jacket hanging over the back of one of the chairs at the dining table, and Booker’s sunglasses are lying on the table next to a car key and a half-empty glass of water.

“Booker?” Nicky calls out as Joe sets the groceries down on the kitchen island. “Booker?” He moves to lay the flowers and the baguette down on the table but then he stops in his tracks and frowns. “Book?”

There’s a noise on the upper floor, and a moment later Booker is walking down the stairs, apparently freshly showered with his hair still a little wet and slightly tousled. He’s wearing a pair of beige linen pants and a white linen shirt, and he’s barefoot. Slowing his pace down a little when he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he looks up and locks eyes with Joe.

“You came,” Joe says, and Booker nods. He stops at the dining table, letting his fingertips brush over the wooden surface. 

“I wasn’t going to, at first, but—” Booker clears his throat and picks up the glass of water. “But then I thought maybe I’d want this, too. You. Both of you.” He brings the glass to his lips but pauses a little before he drinks. “I had never imagined the... the three of us before,” he adds. “Not like that. Until I… until you brought it up. And after a while I was running out of reasons not to.”

When Joe looks from Booker to Nicky, Nicky’s staring at Booker, almost frozen in place. Joe chuckles. He walks over to where Nicky is standing at the other end of the table and takes the baguette and the flowers from his hands. “I think he likes what he sees,” he says, and Nicky startles out of his reverie.

“I do,” he says, and his voice sounds a little hoarse. “I like what I see very much. You look good, Booker.”

Booker takes another sip from his glass, grinning a little around the rim, raising one eyebrow. It’s weird seeing him like this, Joe thinks, both confident and still a bit flustered, a little self-conscious.

“Nicky is right,” Joe says. “You do look good.”

When Booker sets his glass down on the table again, he frowns, and the faintest blush blooms on his face. “How are we going to do this?”

Joe can’t help but smile, and he has to try his hardest to bite back a chuckle. It’s endearing how Booker tries to be so matter-of-fact about the entire thing, how he’s trying to approach it like a mission.

“Dinner first,” Nicky declares and heads over to the kitchen area where Joe has put the groceries. He reaches for one of the vases on the top shelf, and Booker’s eyes appear to be glued to that little piece of skin that shows when his t-shirt rides up with the movement.

“Yeah,” Joe says. “Dinner first. A glass of wine if you want. And then Nicky and I are going to shower, too.”

“It is a pity you already have,” Nicky says, and Joe’ will be damned if Booker is actually blushing this time. 

“And after that, we’ll come to our bedroom,” Joe smirks and continues.

“Where you will be waiting for us,” Nicky adds and exchanges a quick look with Joe. The glitter in Nicky’s eyes, the eagerness with which he’s throwing himself into this, is both beautiful and exciting. _Very exciting._

“Unless you’d rather we come to yours?”

“No,” Booker says, and now his voice sounds a little hoarse as well. “Yours is fine. I’ll be there. After dinner.” He makes a move to grab his keys and jacket, but Nicky stops him.

“You are not having dinner with us?”

“Nicky’s making couscous,” Joe adds when Booker shakes his head. “You like Nicky’s couscous.”

“I don’t know,” Booker says, and Nicky chuckles. 

“You don’t know if you like the couscous?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Booker says, and he sounds a little annoyed, a little harsh. “I’m sorry,” he adds after a short pause. “I didn’t mean—”

“Sit down,” Joe says and pulls out a chair. “We’ll have some wine while Nicky cooks. And you tell us how you got here. How was the drive? What do you think of the house?”

Booker puts his keys down again and sighs. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, I’ll stay.” He sits down, and Joe takes three glasses from one of the cupboards behind the kitchen island. He pours Nicky a glass and sets it down on the counter where Nicky has started to chop the vegetables. When he wraps his arms around Nicky from behind and nuzzles against his throat, Nicky hums. Joe inhales deeply and lets his lips trace over Nicky’s soft skin, savoring the taste of the finest layer of sweat and lingering salty sea breeze. “Hmmmmm,” he hums. “You taste so good.” He looks up and finds Booker watching them closely. He can feel how a small grin begins to form on his face. “I’m going to let him try, okay?” He murmurs into Nicky’s ear, and Nicky nods. “I’m going to let him taste you on my lips.” He kisses Nicky again, and when Nicky turns his head to the side, their lips find each other.

Joe takes his time kissing Nicky, and when they break apart, they’re both a little out of breath. Nicky’s face is slightly flushed, and his lips are a little darker than before. When the tip of Nicky’s tongue darts out and runs over his lower lip, Joe’s stomach flutters. He tightens his arms around Nicky for a moment before he lets go and grabs the two empty glasses and the bottle and walks over where Booker is sitting. He sets the bottle and the glasses down on the table and reaches for Booker’s chin. He tilts Booker’s head a little and leans down.

Booker’s eyes close and his lips open a bit in anticipation, and Joe’s stomach flutters again at the sight. He quickly glances over to the kitchen area. Yes, Nicky’s watching him. Watching _them_. He licks his lips and closes the remaining distance.

Booker gasps a bit when their lips touch, and Joe smiles. 

Joe keeps the kiss very light at first, just a faint brushing of lips against lips. Booker’s breath smells fresh, as if he’s just brushed his teeth, and there’s a hint of something else in it, something unique, something that causes Joe’s pulse to quicken. Booker smells good, really good, and suddenly it becomes paramount to Joe to taste, to find out if he tastes as good as he smells. He touches the tip of his tongue to Booker’s lips, and a quiet moan begins to pour from Booker’s mouth into his, but then Booker bites it back, bites his own lips.

“Shhhhhh,” Joe whispers, and his words tingle between their lips. “It’s okay. You can. I’ve got you.” He can feel Booker take a shaky breath and nod, so he kisses him again, lightly at first, just lips against lips, like the first time. Then he increases the pressure a little, and Booker’s mouth opens again. 

Joe’s hand moves around Booker’s head to cup the back of his neck, and when Booker reaches up to do the same with Joe, carefully, it’s Joe’s turn to moan. Booker’s tongue feels different than Nicky’s, Booker tastes different. He kisses differently, too, and the sensation is both strange and incredibly arousing.

They kiss slowly and deeply for a while until Joe breaks the kiss and cups Booker’s chin again. His face still so very close to Booker’s, he smiles. “You taste good,” he says, looking down at Booker’s lips. They look incredibly tempting, so he kisses them again, just because he can and because Booker wants him to, and this kiss is a lot more demanding. When they break apart, Booker’s eyes are wide and dark with building arousal. “Really good.”

“You too,” Booker rasps, and the debauched tone in his voice goes straight to Joe’s groin. “Both of you.”

This has to be one of the most arousing things he’s ever done, sharing Nicky’s taste with someone else, and kissing Booker like this with Nicky watching. From the corner of his eyes, he can see how Nicky’s biting his lips and shifting his stance. The idea that Nicky might be turned on by this, that Nicky might be getting hard from watching him and Booker kiss makes Joe’s head spin. He dives in and claims Booker’s mouth in another hungry kiss, and Booker kisses him back with an equal desire.

“Okay,” Joe chuckles when they break apart again for air. “Dinner first. This tells me we probably are going to need the energy.”

Over at the kitchen island, Nicky snorts and takes another carrot from the bag. Booker shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair, and Joe pours two glasses of wine, one for Booker and one for himself. 

“Do you want help, hayati?” Joe asks, and Nicky shakes his head, grinning.

“No, I am good,” he says. “You two talk, I cook.”

“You can cook _and_ talk,” Joe says, and Nicky’s grin widens.

“I can do that, yes.”

The conversation while Nicky cooks and during their meal flows surprisingly easy, just like it used to _before_. Booker seems more centered now, though, and less defeated. When they’ve finished their dinner, they quickly clean the kitchen, and then, Joe and Nicky head for the bathroom. 

“Don’t start without me,” Booker yells after them, and Joe shakes his head, grinning, when he closes the door behind them.

“He knows that he could just come in and join us, doesn’t he?” Joe says, and Nicky pulls him into his arms. 

“He might know,” Nicky says, brushing his lips against Joe’s. “But he’s not sure if we’d want him to. He’ll wait for us in the bedroom, like we discussed.”

“I know,” Joe says, nuzzling at that spot behind Nicky’s ear that he loves so very, very much. “It’s a huge step for him already,” he says. “I think he’ll be okay, though. And I think he’s going to enjoy it. If we do, he might as well. He definitely enjoyed the kiss earlier.”

“Oh yes, I saw _that_ ,” Nicky kisses along the line where Joe’s shoulder meets his throat. “And I am planning to enjoy this, too. Very much.”

“Yeah,” Joe breathes. “Me, too. But we maybe really shouldn’t start this without him? Wouldn’t be fair. Even though I’m not sure I can keep my fingers off you even for a second.”

“We can try,” Nicky says and lets his hands travel down Joe’s back. “I am not sure I can either, though,” he adds after a short pause. “I want you too much. I always want you so much. Always.”

“Hmmmmmm,” Joe hums, the caresses of his own fingers mirroring Nicky’s. They carefully dip into Nicky’s crack, just a little, and Joe can feel Nicky’s cock twitch against his. “Okay. Shower…”

Nicky nods but what he _does_ is pull Joe closer against him, licking at Joe’s pulse point, a fleeting touch that he has to know has every potential to drive Joe insane.

“Yeah,” Nicky breathes, and Joe can’t believe how warm Nicky is between his cheeks. How warm and how smooth and how tender. Nicky’s breathing hitches against Joe’s skin when Joe nudges him there with the very tip of his finger, not quite breaching him, just a gentle tease. He pushes against Nicky’s entrance again like that and bites his lips. He holds his breath for a moment, then he lets go.

“Okay,” Joe murmurs, and when Nicky’s eyes open and Nicky looks at him, his stomach lurches at the raw desire and need he finds there. “Okay, shower, now.” Joe quickly reaches for the small nylon bag in which they keep Nicky’s shaving kit and the scissors for his beard, their toothbrushes and toothpaste, and Nicky grins when he takes a tube of lubricant out and closes his fingers around it before he opens the shower’s door, just in case.

Joe’s achingly hard, and so is Nicky, and when they step into the shower together it only takes a moment or two until they’re holding each other close again, the warm spray raining down on them, their bodies wet and aroused against each other.

Nicky moans into Joe’s kiss, and Joe can feel how Nicky’s already very erect cock swells against his even more. And he can feel Nicky’s fingers touching him _there_.

“Maybe—” Joe pants, his own arousal surging with every beat of his heart. “Maybe just—just a little—just to take the edge off…?”

Nicky nods, and the next moment, Joe’s finger is breaching Nicky’s body just like Nicky’s is pushing inside Joe’s, and Nicky’s hand wraps around Joe’s cock. It feels so good Joe has to bury his face against Nicky’s shoulder, and he bites down when Nicky’s grip tightens around him and Nicky’s muscles clench around his finger. This is not going to take very long.

Then, just a short moment later, Nicky runs his thumb over Joe’s slit, and Joe sees stars. 

Joe can feel that Nicky is close already as well, his body already vibrating with the urge to spend itself. He knows what Nicky wants, and he can’t wait for Nicky to have it. There’s nothing Joe desires more now than to make Nicky come, to hear him gasp with climax. He grinds his groin against Nicky’s and pushes his finger further inside, curls it when he can’t go in any further. 

The angle is a little awkward, but Nicky responds in kind. He shivers against Joe and begins to stroke him between their bodies, quick and with purpose. He seems just as desperate to make Joe lose it than Joe is for Nicky to fall.

“Turn around,” Nicky kisses against Joe’s wet lips, and Joe moans. He pulls his finger out and turns to face the shower’s wall with Nicky’s finger still inside him. The tiles feel warm against Joe’s palms when he braces himself and leans forward a little, spreading his legs and bending his knees a bit. Warm and almost as if they’re slowly pulsing, a steady heartbeat in the walls.

Nicky only withdraws hand for a moment to coat his fingers with lube, and when he touches Joe again, they’re slick and trembling with Nicky’s desire.

Joe is so hard it hurts, and he knows Nicky must be as well, so he bites his lips and wills his body to relax. He knows Nicky won’t stop preparing him until he’s sure Joe’s loose and open enough, no matter how much he wants to be inside, so Joe helps as much as he can, relaxing his muscles and letting Nicky’s fingers work their magic. 

Nicky is so incredibly good at this, teasing and coaxing Joe open with one hand while running his other hand down Joe’s back and his sides again and again, soft, warm, and incredibly arousing. More than once Joe thinks he’s going to come just from that, but every time he’s about to tumble over the edge, Nicky’s fingers still inside him, and Nicky presses his forehead against Joe’s spine right there between Joe’s shoulder blades and shakes his head, humming low in his throat.

Joe moans, letting his head fall forward, panting. He needs Nicky inside him more than he needs his next breath.

“I know,” Nicky moans, and finally, finally he withdraws his fingers and brings the tip of his cock to Joe’s entrance. “I know, my love…”

The sensation of Nicky breaching his body, of pushing inside slowly and steadily is almost enough to make Joe lose it, but Nicky’s fingers close around the base of his cock, and Nicky shakes his head again, completely still inside Joe save for that hot, erratic pulse of his cock.

“Nicolò, _please_ ,” Joe moans, blinded by the intense pleasure of being stretched and filled, and he thinks that if Nicky doesn’t move soon, now, he’s going to come anyway, no matter what. “Baby, please—"

It’s quick and surprisingly dirty once Nicky starts moving, fucking into Joe hard and fast, kissing encouragement and profanities against Joe’s wet skin, so warm and vibrant inside of Joe it doesn’t take much more after that for Joe to reach and pass the point of no return. 

When Joe comes, he can feel Nicky spill himself as well, and it’s almost as if he can feel Nicky’s pleasure more intensely than his own. For a moment, Joe wishes Booker could see them like this, here under the shower, slowly riding the waves of their joint orgasms as they gradually subside, drunk with pleasure and with still lingering arousal. He wishes Booker could see them like this, drunk with each other. If they look just a fraction as beautiful as this feels, Booker wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off himself for even a second.

The spray washes away their release but not before Joe catches Nicky’s hand in his and brings it to his mouth. He licks his come from Nicky’s fingers, humming and smiling with satisfied pleasure.

They’re both still half-hard, and the air between them is still so intensely charged with want that Joe knows this really was just taking the edge off. He grins as he turns off the shower and hands Nicky a fresh towel.

They dry each other off slowly and still smiling, and when Joe stills at the sensation of a bit of Nicky’s come seeping from his body and running down the inside of his thigh, Nicky’s smile broadens first and then it fades. The look in Nicky’s eyes when they meet Joe’s is heart-shattering. The fire there almost burns Joe alive when Nicky reaches down and brings his hand between Joe’s legs to catch his spend on his fingers.

Nicky wipes Joe clean with his moist towel, careful and gentle, and when they walk to their bedroom along the corridor, a breeze of warm wind tells them that Booker must have opened the doors to the balcony.

It smells like the ocean, and Joe stops Nicky in the doorway, just before they enter. 

Booker is out on the balcony with his back turned towards the room, his hands resting on the railing and a glass of whiskey at his side. He’s naked, and the sea breeze is playing with his hair.

He’s beautiful, Joe thinks, the light from inside their room painting a golden glow on the sloped canvas of his back, the rise and fall of his shoulders and his spine, the small of his back and the hills of his ass. Joe lets his eyes travel along Booker’s scars, especially the long one starting just below his left shoulder blade. He’s seen them many times, after battles, but he’s never really _looked_ at them. They’re beautiful, too, he thinks, and they move like snakes in smooth desert sand when Booker reaches for his glass and brings it to his lips.

Booker hasn’t noticed them yet, Joe thinks, but he soon will with all his senses so finely trained and tuned, so he doesn’t bother clearing his throat or giving any other sign of their presence. He just starts walking towards Booker again, Nicky’s hand in his. Booker takes another sip from his glass when Joe and Nicky step out on the balcony, but he doesn’t turn around.

Joe lets go of Nicky’s hand and walks up to Booker, a small smile forming on his lips. When he comes to stand next to him, he gently places his left hand on the small of Booker’s back and reaches for the glass with his right.

“Hmmmmm,” he licks his lips after he’s taken a sip. “This is good.” When Booker’s muscles flex under his palm, Joe can feel how his cock begins to fill again, and to rise. A brief glance from the corner of his eyes tells him that Booker is aroused as well, and his eyes narrow a bit. He tilts his head a little, searching for Booker’s eyes but Booker keeps staring ahead, his eyes on the ocean.

“I could hear you,” Booker says, and his voice is heavy with arousal. “In the shower. I could hear how you—”

“I’d say I’m sorry,” Joe says, his lips curling into a smile again. “We tried not to but—” He reaches for Booker’s chin and turns his head around, his hand slowly stroking over Booker’s ass. “We missed you,” he adds, running his thumb over Booker’s lips. “I thought you might be watching us.”

Booker shakes his head, slowly, as if in a dream. Then his eyes dart to something over Joe’s shoulder, and when Joe’s eyes follow his, he sees the open bathroom window. “No. Just heard.”

Joe nods, his grin fading. He lets go of Booker’s face and reaches for his shoulders, turning him around so they’re face to face. They’re standing so close to each other that their cocks are almost touching, and Joe can’t stop looking. Booker’s is incredibly hard, his cock dark and heavy, the vein on its underside almost purple. It strains against Booker’s stomach as Joe watches, and a clear drop of pre-come forms at its tip. Joe bites his lips. He wants to say something, he wants to tell Booker how beautiful he is like this, but his throat constricts before he can speak.

When he looks up, Booker’s eyes are on his face, studying him carefully. Their eyes meet, and Joe’s heart misses a beat. The expression in Booker’s eyes is indescribable, and it tears the ground open beneath Joe’s feet. His gaze drops to Booker’s lips, and tasting those lips is all Joe can think about. 

He takes a small step forward and reaches for Booker’s chin with his right hand. Even though he wants to be gentle, he can’t, not yet. He’s too hungry for this, so he crushes their mouths together and feasts. It doesn’t take long for them to be out of breath, and soon, Joe has to break apart for air. When their eyes meet again, that look in Booker’s eyes has grown even more intense, and Joe can feel his features soften at that.

This time, Joe kisses Booker slowly, his heart beating out of his chest. Booker’s close to him, so very close, and now their cocks are touching, and their chests are, too, and Booker’s arms are around him, roaming his back, and his own hands are cupping Booker’s face gently. 

Booker’s lips are firm, and his tongue is a little rougher than Nicky’s, and just like earlier in the kitchen downstairs, the stubble of his beard tickling against Joe’s mouth. As the kiss deepens, Joe gets to taste what he was longing to taste, and it is intoxicating. 

Joe can hear himself moan into Booker’s mouth as they slowly devour each other, unable to break apart just yet. After another moment, there’s a hand in his hair at the back of his head and another is cupping his ass, thumb gently stroking the small point where his crack begins to part his cheeks. 

When their kiss ends, they rest their foreheads against each other, breathing deeply, Booker’s heart beating as erratically as Joe’s. Booker’s hand travels a little lower, his fingers sliding down Joe’s cleft, and when they reach Joe’s hole, Booker stills.

“Did you—” Booker murmurs, and his fingertips nudge the entrance to Joe’s body teasingly. Joe can still feel Nicky inside him, and to have Booker touching him like this right there so soon after is a whole other level of intimacy. “Did Nicky—”

Joe nods and moans when Booker’s fingers push against his entrance a little more. He can feel how a little come oozes out, and when Booker gasps and pushes against it with just the smallest amount of pressure, Joe moans again. It seems quite possible to him that he might die from this right now, and the thought that Nicky sees all this, the knowledge that he’s watching Booker touching him like this is almost too much.

It takes Joe a while before he can open his eyes again after that, and when he can, he turns his head towards the balcony’s doors.

Nicky’s on the bed, sitting up against the headboard, watching them closely. His fingers are loosely curled around his cock, and he’s slowly stroking himself, his lower lip between his teeth and a distinct look of awe on his face.

Joe can’t help but smile when Booker bends his head to kiss a moist path down Joe’s neck and along his shoulder. “Hmmmm,” he hums in response, cupping Booker’s ass with both hands, his eyes fixed on Nicky’s. “Want to take this inside?”

When Booker looks up, Joe points his chin at the bed, and Booker’s eyes follow his. 

The sharp breath Booker draws in when he sees Nicky is music to Joe’s ears.

“He’s so beautiful,” Joe says softly, rubbing his cheek against Booker’s, unable to tear his eyes away from Nicky. “Isn’t he?” Booker nods, and a raw “ _oui_ ” falls from his lips. Joe’s smile deepens. “Do you want to go inside?” He asks again, the tone in his voice betraying his growing arousal. “Join him inside?”

Booker nods, and Joe kisses him once more before he breaks their embrace and places his hand on the small of Booker’s back just like before, steering him towards the door.

Booker pauses on the threshold, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, just like Nicky does, and Nicky’s features relax and his lips curl into a smile. But just for a moment because Nicky’s cock twitches in his hand and his hips jerk, causing him to suck in a sharp breath and close his eyes.

Joe can feel how Booker’s muscles tense as well, and his own cock twitches in response. The mere idea of watching them together, Nicky and Booker, makes Joe’s head spin. It must be devastating. 

He gives Booker the smallest of shoves, just a gentle pressure to the small of his back when Nicky holds his hand out to beckon them in. The longing in Nicky’s eyes is overwhelming, and Joe almost staggers as he leads Booker to the bed, still guiding him with his hand on the small of his back.

Nicky casually fucks into his own fist once more, and Joe can see that he’s already leaking again. Next to him, Booker licks his lips, and Nicky extends his outstretched hand a little further.

“Come,” Nicky says, and his voice is low and quiet as his gaze briefly drops to where he’s touching himself. “You can if you want to.”

Booker wants to, that’s more than evident from the way his eyes follow Nicky’s when he looks down, and from the way he bites his lips and swallows. Joe’s arousal rises to another level at the raw look of desire on Booker’s face, and suddenly there’s nothing he wants more than to see Booker’s lips around Nicky’s cock.

“Go on,” Joe says, and his voice sounds just as raw to him. Booker casts him a quick glance, and he nods. “I want to see you take him into your mouth.”

Joe’s hand wraps around his own cock as Booker scrambles onto the bed and leans forward, lowering his head slowly. The movements of Nicky’s hand stop but he doesn’t let go of himself. He holds himself still, and when Booker’s tongue darts out and its tip runs over his crown, he closes his eyes and tilts his head back. 

Joe can almost feel the little touch himself and he runs his thumb over the head of his own cock, gently and carefully, mirroring the caress of Booker’s tongue. The spike of desire that surges through him draws a low moan from his lips, and Nicky’s hips jerk a little in response.

Nicky’s hands fist into the fabric of the sheets, and Joe can only imagine how hard he’s trying to hold still, how hard he’s trying to keep himself from just fucking into Booker’s mouth right now. Nicky loves getting head, and from the way Booker approaches this he seems to be very good at it. _Very_ good.

When Booker lowers his head further and opens his mouth, Joe climbs onto the bed as well, wanting to get closer so he can really watch. Booker takes Nicky in little bit by little bit, his lips tight around Nicky’s cock and the muscles in his back rippling with the effort to hold back, to take this slow.

The look on Nicky’s face is earthshattering. It’s rapt abandonment, his mouth slightly open and his lips dark and glistening, his closed eyelids fluttering with pleasure.

Once Booker has taken Nicky as far into his mouth as he can, as deeply as possible, he stills, and Nicky’s hand finds its way into Booker’s hair. Joe reaches out with his free hand and laces their fingers together there, and when Booker moans around Nicky’s cock Joe can feel the vibrations resonating through his entire body. 

Then, Booker begins to move; he lifts his head until his lips are touching only the very tip of Nicky’s cock, and then he sinks down again, swallowing Nicky once more. After a couple of these strokes, Joe disentangles his hand from Nicky’s and runs it over the back of Booker’s head and down his spine, from the back of his head down, down, _down_ to his tailbone and his ass. He lets his hand rest there for a bit, splayed out over Booker’s crack, and when Booker moans again, Joe can feel it there, too.

Joe adjusts the position of his hand, aligning his middle finger with Booker’s cleft, gently pressing down, parting Booker’s cheeks a little. His eyes dart from there to Nicky’s face, and Nicky choses that exact moment to open his eyes again. Joe’s stomach lurches when Nicky looks at him, biting his lips and letting his head roll to the side. Nicky’s hand is still in Booker’s hair, his fingers entangled with the golden strands, and Joe moans at the thought of how that must feel, Booker’s hair between Nicky’s fingers.

Joe’s finger pushes between Booker’s cheeks further, and his own cock swells in his hand. At the back of his mind Joe wonders how long he’ll be able to keep this slow. He suspects it’s not going to be long anymore with the way his cock is throbbing against his palm and with the way his pre-come feels against the tip of his thumb, warm and slick.

“Yusuf,” Nicky moans, and Joe immediately knows what Nicky wants. He lets go of himself and leans forward a little, bringing his hand to Nicky’s mouth and offering his fingers to Nicky to taste. The moment Nicky’s tongue touches Joe’s skin, the tip of his finger breaches Booker’s body, and Booker moans around Nicky’s cock. An echoing moan spills from Nicky’s lips onto Joe’s fingers and spreads through him like a wave of white hot heat. Booker’s so tight, and Joe has to bite his lips at the thought of entering him deeper, and with not just his finger. 

Booker is stroking himself, and Joe wonders how he’s only realizing that now. It’s incredibly arousing to know Booker’s so affected by this, by sucking Nicky off, and it’s almost too much for Joe to bear. When Joe pushes his finger inside further, Booker moans and raises his head. Nicky’s cock slips from Booker’s lips, hard and dark and glistening.

Booker’s muscles tighten around Joe’s fingers as he straightens his back a little and reaches for Joe’s hand, the one Nicky’s still licking and tasting. He holds it in place there, right there at Nicky’s mouth, and his breath is hot against Joe’s skin when his lips join Nicky’s there.

Joe’s just as sensitive between his fingers as Nicky is, and to have both Nicky’s and Booker’s tongues licking and caressing him there makes his brain short circuit. Booker’s still so very tight and so very hot around Joe’s fingers, and when Booker’s and Nicky’s tongues meet, when they’re both kissing Joe’s fingers and each other, Joe wishes he had a third hand to close around the base of his cock and squeeze tight. He really wants this to last but he’s not sure how long his defenses against this onslaught of pleasure will hold.

Joe’s cock twitches, and he knows he needs to bury it inside now, right now, inside _Booker_ , his lust-fogged mind reminds him, and he moans at that thought. He’s going to fuck Booker while Booker sucks Nicky off, and he’s going to come inside Booker’s tight heat when Nicky spends himself into Booker’s mouth.

He inhales sharply when he withdraws his hand and Booker’s and Nicky’s lips immediately find each other, drinking moans of pleasure and want from each other, tingling and swollen, just like Joe’s.

Joe scoots over a little, nudging Booker’s legs apart so he can get on his knees behind him, his finger still buried inside. Then he withdraws and runs both his hands over Booker’s ass, squeezing and caressing, and his thumbs find their way into Booker’s crack, spreading his cheeks apart, holding him open. Joe runs them over Booker’s hole and every time Joe touches him there, Booker’s muscles tighten. Joe shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut against how beautiful this is, his thumbs playing with Booker’s hole and the shivers that run through Booker in response.

Even though Joe knows that Booker doesn’t really need it he reaches for the lube on the bedside table. He hesitates, considering for a moment that maybe Booker doesn’t want the lube, his hand resting on the small of Booker’s back.

“Booker,” he says, tilting his head a little. And then, when Booker’s only reaction is to moan into Nicky’s mouth: “Sebastien.”

The kiss slows down, and when it breaks, Booker lets his head drop between his shoulders for a moment. “Yeah?”

“Do you want—” Joe clears his throat, and he can feel Booker’s muscles tighten a little under his touch. “Do you want me to use this?” He holds the bottle up a little, and Booker lifts his head, looking at it over his shoulder. “Or do you want me to just—"

He seems to be considering Joe’s question for a moment, and then he shakes his head. “Just,” he says, and Joe’s chest constricts at the look on Booker’s face. “Just you.”

“Okay,” Joe murmurs, running his hand over Booker’s ass gently. He would have preferred a different decision but this is for Booker even more than it is for them, so he’ll let Booker have this if this is what he wants. “Okay.” He tosses the bottle aside and cups Booker’s cheeks with both his hands, running his palms over them again and again. Booker and Nicky are kissing again, and once more Nicky’s eyes open the exact moment Joe looks at him. For a couple of heartbeats, their eyes cling to each other, and when Nicky’s pupils go even wider and Nicky reaches out for Joe, Joe leans forward, half-covering Booker’s body with his, and reaches for the back of Nicky’s head.

Booker’s forehead comes to rest on Nicky’s shoulder for a moment when Nicky breaks their kiss, and his lips search for Joe’s. Then Booker’s head slides down until it’s cradled in the crook of Nicky’s arm.

Joe can’t help but moan when Nicky’s and his lips meet, and he tastes Booker and Nicky himself on them. Nicky’s lips are so pliant and warm, and his tongue tastes of a desire so strong it goes right to Joe’s groin. His cock is lined up with Booker’s crack and as he leans a little more into the kiss, it slides upwards in delicious friction.

He wants to be inside Booker so bad but he doesn’t want to stop kissing Nicky, and when Booker moans against Nicky’s skin, for a moment Joe’s incredibly close to coming. Nicky breaks the kiss when Joe stills and buries his nose in Booker’s hair, inhaling shakily.

Joe sits back on his heels and begins to finger Booker again, working him open a little less thoroughly than he would have liked. Soon, Booker is a moaning mess fucking himself on Joe’s finger, biting into the muscles of Nicky’s arm as Joe works him open with one finger, then with two. He even manages to get a third finger inside but then he can’t hold back anymore. He spits into his palm and runs his hand over his cock. Then, he positions himself and pushes forward, entering Booker with one slow, gradual thrust of his hips. 

When he’s all the way inside he stops, his cock throbbing and Booker’s heartbeat pulsing around him. He’s so deep inside, his hands resting on Booker’s hips, holding himself still and in place as well as keeping Booker from moving. 

Booker’s panting, Nicky’s fingers playing with his hair, and after a muttered curse, hot lips against the thin skin at the crook of Nicky’s arm, Booker pushes back a little and brings his mouth to Nicky’s cock again. 

For a short while longer, Joe keeps completely still but then he begins to move, shallow thrusts at first that soon become deeper and much more urgent. He pulls almost all the way out then and pushes his hips forward with the sole purpose of making Booker lose himself. 

Nicky’s hips are stuttering as he fucks Booker’s mouth, rolling his hips to meet the movements of Booker’s head and his mouth around Nicky’s cock, his hand still fisting into Booker’s hair and his face shining with a thin layer of sweat. Every time Booker does something especially pleasurable, Nicky’s features tense and his eyes squeeze shut a little tighter. 

Joe studies Nicky’s face closely as he’s getting closer and closer to the edge. He can see how Nicky’s orgasm is slowly building, and he knows exactly how Nicky tastes when he is like this. He knows the taste by heart, mind and soul, the taste that’s now on Booker’s tongue as well. He knows it’s going to stay there forever.

Not long now until Nicky’s going to spill, and from the way Booker clenches around Joe’s cock, Booker knows that, too. He’s probably just as close.

Joe’s trembling now, with desire, with pent-up release, with the effort to draw this out just a little longer, just a little, to last the longest, until Booker and Nicky have found their release. 

“Nicolò,” he mutters when it becomes obvious that Nicky’s going to come. “Nicolò—Please—”

Nicky’s eyes fly open and his hips jerk, fucking his cock so deep into Booker’s mouth that Booker gags around it. Joe can feel how the first waves of orgasm rip through Nicky and how he spends himself, surrounded by Booker’s lips, and how Booker takes it all, swallowing around Nicky’s cock, drinking down his release. 

It’s just two or three more thrusts until Booker comes, too, his own hand stroking himself through it, his body growing impossibly tight around Joe’s cock for a moment, then clenching and unclenching as his climax washes over him. 

There’s no way Joe’s going to be able to hold back any longer, so he lets go and lets himself fall, his one hand fisted into Booker’s hair, his other one digging into the muscles of Booker’s upper thigh. It’s almost harsh at first when he comes, and for a moment the world around him fades to nothing else but tight heat and the sound of Nicky’s and Booker’s moans. Each wave of release is like a bolt of lightning shooting through him, and he empties himself deep inside of Booker’s tight, clenching heat, spurt after spurt after spurt.

His heart is beating erratically, stutters, misses a beat. His hips jerk and his legs tremble as he keeps coming, completely helpless against the overwhelming climax that claims him again and again. When it finally ebbs, he falls forward, his front aligned with Booker’s back and his arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him close. His cock is still pulsing faintly, and after a few more moments he realizes that Nicky’s fingers have found their way in his hair and that Booker’s still moaning, that Booker’s skin is still sticky with sweat and saliva and that his pulse is running wildly against Joe’s quivering lips. 

It’s almost too much when Booker tightens around Joe again, drawing the last pulses of orgasm from him, making him spend himself until there’s nothing left. 

The first thing that penetrates Joe’s post-orgasmic mind is Nicky’s voice, murmuring his name over and over again, words full of awe and love. He smiles. He smiles against the nape of Booker’s neck, his heartbeat heavy in his throat and Booker’s skin unbelievably warm. He can feel his cock jerk one last time, so painfully sweet his eyes prickle with it.

He knows that he’ll be growing soft soon but for now he allows himself to roll his hips a little, just a little, brushing over Booker’s prostate on every shallow thrust. Booker’s moans are just very quiet now, they sound like afterglow, and Joe’s smile broadens. 

Inhaling shakily, Joe sits up again and pulls out, slowly, tantalizing friction making his cock grow fully hard again. There’s come oozing out of Booker’s hole, his come, and Joe’s fingers are drawn between Booker’s cheeks as if by magic. He runs his fingertips over Booker’s hole, savoring the texture of his semen on his skin. He bites his lips as he positions the tip of his cock there once more and fucks back into Booker, burying himself there again. The way Booker takes him in, gradually opening up to him, moaning softly against Nicky’s lips, is nothing short of miraculous. Joe does it again and again until he’s too soft, and then he uses his fingers. 

At some point, Booker collapses against Nicky’s chest, and Nicky’s arms hold him close, his hands caressing Booker’s back and side, his mouth humming softly into Booker’s hair. When Joe looks up, Nicky’s eyes are closed and he’s smiling, placing the softest and lightest of kisses against Booker’s temple, brushing Booker’s hair from his face more gently than Joe would have thought possible. 

Their heartbeats gradually slowing and their breathing evening out, they shift and turn until they’re lying on their sides, Booker sandwiched between Nicky and Joe. Nicky reaches behind his back over his shoulder and Joe catches his hand in his. Nicky’s fingers taste of all three of them when Joe kisses them, and Booker sighs against the nape of Nicky’s neck.

They fall asleep like this, close to each other, so close, and when they wake up in the middle of the night, their desire for each other newly awakening, they take it slow. Booker gets to be inside Nicky this time, and Joe’s lying next to them, his hand on the small of Booker’s back as Booker fucks Nicky slowly, and his lips kissing the rising pleasure from Nicky’s lips. He comes to the touch of his own hand this time when Nicky’s fingers tighten around his.

Booker’s back arches a few heartbeats later and he stills. Joe can feel the pulses of his climax against his palm, and the sounds Nicky makes when Booker empties himself inside him taste sweeter than anything Joe’s tasted in a long, long time. 

When Booker has rolled off Nicky, hand on his chest and still panting with the aftershocks, Joe pulls Nicky against his side and half on top of him, still kissing when Booker slots up behind Nicky, fitting his front to Nicky’s back, nosing at that tender spot behind Nicky’s ear. 

Nicky hums a little and smacks his lips as he settles with his mouth against Joe’s pulse point and their fingers entwined right above Joe’s heart. 

When Joe wakes up again a few hours later, it’s just him and Nicky. There’s a sheet of paper next to them on the mattress and Joe picks it up with a slight frown as Nicky stirs awake in his arm.

“He’s gone,” Joe says, his voice still a little raw and heavy with sleep. “I think he’s gone back to London.”

“Terry,” Nicky says, and Joe nods. Joe has told Nicky about Terry and how Booker had stayed with him in the summer on their drive here. Nicky takes the letter from Joe’s hand, runs his fingertips over the words. “ _You can’t love me the way you love him_ ,” Nicky reads, a faint and very vulnerable smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “ _Maybe nobody can. But I know now where I want to go. I know where I want to be. It’s worth a try._ ”

Nicky’s lips find Joe’s, a slow, languid kiss filled with melancholy and hope. “So, it wasn’t just Terry who was beginning to fall in love back then?” Nicky’s words are no more than a whisper against Joe’s lips, barely audible. 

Joe shakes his head. “No,” he murmurs, closing his eyes again. “No, I don’t think it was.”

“It’s going to be hard,” Nicky says, and Joe bites his lips. “For him, I mean, for Booker, when—”

“Yeah,” Joe says, pulling Nicky closer. He inhales deeply, drinking in the scent he can’t even imagine living without. “But he knows that.”

“He’s going to be alone,” Nicky says, brushing his lips against Joe’s with infinite care. “He’s going to be so alone when it ends.”

“No,” Joe says, touching his fingers to Nicky’s chin, tilting Nicky’s head so that their eyes meet. “No, he’s never going to be alone now. Not really, not anymore.”

“So, do you think he will be able to deal with it?” Nicky asks, propping himself up on one elbow, looking down at Joe. “Do you think he will be all right with this… this solitude?”

“I don’t know,” Joe replies after a long pause. “But I have hope. I have hope now that he might be.”

_~fin~_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [sal-si-puedes](https://sal-si-puedes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr - come and say "Hi"!


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